Chapter Three — The Jeweled Bank of the Sarayu

Agastya said:

Śrutvā śrutvā Rāma-rasaṃ tava vaktrān mahākape,
Na tṛpyati mano me ’dya havir-bhuk haviṣā yathā. (1)

O great monkey, though I hear the rasa of Rama again and again from your lotus mouth, my mind is still not satisfied today—just as fire, the eater of offerings, is never sated by clarified butter.

Hanuman said:

Munivarya mahābhāga dhanya-dhanyo ’si dhanyakṛt,
Yathā sparśa-maṇeḥ sparśāl loho ’pi svarṇatāṃ vrajet. (2)

O foremost sage, greatly blessed Agastya, you are blessed beyond the blessed and sanctify every worthy deed. Just as iron becomes gold through contact with the philosopher’s stone, so the hearer is transformed through contact with this sacred account.

Tataḥ Sarayvāḥ pulinaṃ pavitraṃ suvistṛtaṃ kānaka-pādapair yutam,
Praphullitā-pāda-śikhair vicitrair bhāsvan-mayūkhaiḥ paritaḥ prasannam. (3)

Thereafter they came to the sacred, spacious bank of the Sarayu. Golden-barked trees stood there, flowering from root to crown; their wondrous blossoms cast radiant beams and filled every side with delight.

Yat saurabhaiḥ svādumayaiḥ sadā gate-gatāgataiḥ pūrita-viśva-khaṇḍam,
Paribhramantyo madhu-pāna-mattā yatrāli-mālāḥ kila maṇḍitāś ca. (4, continues)

Sweet fragrances moved continually upon the coming and going breeze and filled the whole expanse. Garlands of bees, intoxicated by drinking honey, circled everywhere and adorned the riverbank.