ठाढ़े हैं लषन कमलकर जोरे। उर धकधकी, न कहत कछु सकुचनि, प्रभु परिहरत सबनि तृन तोरे?॥ १ ॥ कृपासिंधु अवलोकि बंधु तन, प्रान-कृपान बीर-सी छोरे। तात बिदा माँगिए मातुसों, बनिहै बात उपाइ न औरे॥ २ ॥ जाइ चरन गहि आयसु जाँची, जननि कहत बहुभाँति निहोरे। सिय-रघुबर-सेवा सुचि ह्वैहौ तौ जानिहौं, सही सुत मोरे॥ ३ ॥ कीजहु इहै बिचार निरंतर, राम समीप सुकृत नहिं थोरे। तुलसी सुनि सिष चले चकित-चित उड्यो मानो बिहग बधिक भए भोरे॥ ४ ॥
Lakṣmaṇa stands with his lotus hands joined. His heart pounds; shyly he says nothing: ‘Is the Lord forsaking everyone, breaking the straw that bound him to them?’ (1) The ocean of compassion looked upon his brother's body and saw him like a warrior with the sword of life drawn. ‘Dear one, ask leave of your mother; there is no other way for this matter to be settled.’ (2) He went, clasped her feet, and asked permission; his mother entreated him in many ways: ‘Only if you become pure through serving Sītā and Raghubara shall I know you as truly my son. (3) Keep this thought always: dwelling near Rāma is no small store of merit.’ Tulsī says that on hearing this teaching, the disciple set out, his heart astounded—like a bird that flies when the hunter grows unwary. (4)