सुभग सरासन सायक जोरे। खेलत राम फिरत मृगया बन, बसति सो मृदु मूरति मन मोरे॥ १ ॥ पीत बसन कटि, चारु चारि सर, चलत कोटि नट सो तृन तोरे। स्यामल तनु श्रम-कन राजत, ज्यों नव घन सुधा-सरोवर खोरे॥ २ ॥ ललित कंध, बर भुज, बिसाल उर, लेहिं कंठ-रेखैं चित चोरे। अवलोकत मुख देत परम सुख, लेत सरद-ससिकी छबि छोरे॥ ३ ॥ जटा मुकुट सिर, सारस-नयननि गौहैं तकत सुभौंह सकोरे। सोभा अमित समाति न कानन, उमगि चली चहुँ दिसि मिति फोरे॥ ४ ॥ चितवत चकित कुरंग-कुरंगिनि, सब भए मगन मदनके भोरे। तुलसिदास प्रभु बान न मोचत, सहज सुभाय प्रेमबस थोरे॥ ५ ॥
With an arrow set upon his handsome bow, Rāma roams the forest at the hunt; that gentle form abides within my heart. (1) A yellow garment is at his waist and four lovely arrows beside it. At the sight of his gait, ten million dancers would break blades of grass to ward off the evil eye. Drops of perspiration shine upon his dark body like pearls on a fresh cloud emerging from a lake of nectar. (2) Lovely are his shoulders, noble his arms, broad his chest; the lines upon his neck steal the heart. The sight of his face gives supreme delight and robs the autumn moon of its splendor. (3) A crown of matted locks rests upon his head. When his lotus eyes take aim beneath beautifully contracted brows, his boundless beauty cannot fit within the forest but surges beyond measure through all four directions. (4) Stags and does gaze in astonishment, all entranced and mistaking him for the Love-god. Yet, says Tulsīdāsa, the Lord does not loose his arrow, for by his very nature he is won by even a little love. (5)