Then Ráma, speeding through the skies, Bent on the earth his eager eyes: 'Look, Sítá, see, divinely planned And built by Vis'vakarmá's hand, Lanká the lovely city rest Enthroned on Mount Trikúta's crest Behold those fields, ensanguined yet, Where Vánar hosts and giants met.
There, vainly screened by charm and spell, The robber Rávan fought and fell. There knelt Mandodari and shed Her tears in floods for Rávan dead. And every dame who loved him sent From her sad heart her wild lament. There gleams the margin of the deep, Where, worn with toil, we sank to sleep.
Look, love, the unconquered sea behold, King Varun's home ordained of old, Whose boundless waters roar and swell Rich with their store of pearl and shell. O see, the morning sun is bright On fair Hiranyanábha's height, Who rose from Ocean's sheltering breast That Hanumán might stay and rest.
There stretches, famed for evermore, The wondrous bridge from shore to shore. The worlds, to life's remotest day. Due reverence to the work shall pay, Which holier for the laps of time Shall give release from sin and crime. Now thither bend, dear love, thine eyes Where green with groves Kishkindhá lies, The seat of King Sugríva's reign, Where Báli by this hand was slain.
There Ríshyamúka's hill behold Bright gleaming with embedded gold. There too my wandering foot I set, There King Sugríva first I met. And, where yon trees their branches wave, My promise of assistance gave. There, flushed with lilies, Pampá shines With banks which greenest foliage lines, Where melancholy steps I bent And mourned thee with a mad lament.
There fierce Kabandha, spreading wide His giant arms, in battle died. Turn, Sítá, turn thine eyes and see In Janasthán that glorious tree: There Rávan, lord of giants slew Our friend Jatáyas brave and true, Thy champion in the hopless strife, Who gave for thee his noble life.
Now mark that glade amid the trees Where once we lived as devotees. See, see our leafy cot between Those waving boughs of densest green, Where Rávan seized his prize and stole My love the darling of my soul. O, look again: beneath thee gleams Godávari the best of streams, Whose lucid waters sweetly glide By lilies that adorn her side.
There dwelt Agastya, holy sage, In plantain-sheltered hermitage. See S'arabhanga's humble shed Which sovereign Indra visited. See where the gentle hermits dwell Neath Atri's rule who loved us well; Where once thine eyes were blest to see His sainted dame who talked with thee.
Now rest thine eyes with new delight On Chitrakúta's woody height, See Jumna flashing in the sun Through groves of brilliant foliage run. Screened by the shade of spreading boughs There Bharadvája keeps his vows, There Gangá, river of the skies, Bolls the sweet wave that purifies, There S'ringavera's towers ascend Where Guha reigns, mine ancient friend.
I see, I see thy glittering spires, Ayodhyá, city of my sires. Bow down, bow down thy head, my sweet, Our home, our long-lost home to greet.'
