ऋतु-पति आए भलो बन्यो बन समाज। मानो भए हैं मदन महाराज आज॥ मनो प्रथम फागु मिस करि अनीति। होरीमिस अरि पुर जारि जीति॥ मारुत मिस पत्र-प्रजा उजारि। नयनगर बसाए बिपिन झारि॥ सिंहासन सैल-सिला सुरंग। कानन-छबि रति, परिजन कुरंग॥ सित छत्र सुमन, बल्ली बितान। चामर समीर, निरझर निसान॥ मनो मधु-माधव दोउ अनिप धीर। बर बिपुल बिटप बानैत बीर॥ मधुकर-सुक-कोकिलबंदि-बृंद। बरनहिं बिसुद्ध जस बिबिध छंद॥ महि परत सुमन-रस फल पराग। जनु देत इतर नृप कर-बिभाग॥ कलि सचिव सहित नय-निपुन मार। कियो बिस्व बिबस चारिहु प्रकार॥ बिरहिनपर नित नइ परै मारि। डाँड़ियत सिद्ध-साधक प्रचारि॥ तिनकी न काम सकै चापि छाँह। तुलसी जे बसहिं रघुबीर-बाँह॥
When the lord of seasons arrived, the forest court became splendid, as though Kāma had today been crowned emperor. First, under the guise of the spring festival, he acted unjustly: beneath the cover of Holī he burned and conquered the enemy city. Disguised as wind, he drove away the leaf-subjects, cleared the forest, and founded a new city there. A colorful mountain rock is his throne; the forest’s beauty is Rati and the deer are courtiers. White flowers are the royal parasol, vines the canopy, the breeze the fly-whisk, and waterfalls the kettledrums. Madhu and Mādhava seem to be two steadfast commanders, while the many excellent trees are heroic archers. Companies of bees, parrots, and cuckoos are bards proclaiming his stainless fame in varied meters. Flower nectar, fruit, and pollen fall upon the earth as though other kings were paying their allotted tribute. With Kali as his minister, the policy-skilled Smara has subjugated the world through all four means. He strikes the separated lover with an ever-new blow and openly punishes siddhas and spiritual practitioners. Yet, Tulsī says, even Kāma’s shadow cannot touch those who dwell within Raghubīra’s arms.