Pada 247
My heart pounds within my breast, O Rama, longing to meet my beloved. The bracelet has slipped down upon my arm, yet still he sends no letter. Friend, whenever I remember his sweet words, all awareness deserts me. The gallant of Ayodhya has so bewitched me that this has become my condition.
Pada 248
My beloved, the wanderer of Ayodhya, O Rama, has made me forget myself. Day and night, without my beloved, my eyes rain tears and grow red. Friend, whenever I remember the devastating beauty of his curling hair, not even for a moment does my heart find rest; separation has brought me terrible misery.
Pada 249
The beloved wanders upon the bank of the Sarayu, O Rama. Beneath the shade of a lovely arbor, Ayodhya’s beloved walks arm in arm with Siya. Beauty reigns in every limb, and a garland of flowers rests upon his chest. Mohani Ali says: “Friend, my heart grows unbearably restless— let me run and clasp my beloved around the neck!”
Pada 250
The gallant has struck me, O Rama, with his sidelong glance. Wounded, I wander from moment to moment; nowhere do I find repose. My friend has become a stranger to me, and our eyes no longer meet. Mohani Ali says: “Not even the smallest word can now emerge from my mouth.”
Pada 251
Upon that fair face rests a dark beauty-mark. His eyes are charming, exceedingly red at the corners; the vision draws near and settles against my heart.