तुम्हरे बिरह भई गति जौन। चित दै सुनहु, राम करुनानिधि! जानौं कछु, पै सकौं कहिहौं न॥ १ ॥ लोचन-नीर कृपिनके धन ज्यों रहत निरंतर लोचनन कोन। ‘हा’ धुनि-खगी लाज-पिंजरी महँ राखि हिये बड़े बधिक हठि मौन॥ २ ॥ जेहि बाटिका बसति, तहँ खग-मृग तजि-तजि भजे पुरातन भौन। स्वास-समीर भेंट भइ भोरेहु, तेहि मग पगु न धरयो तिहुँ पौन॥ ३ ॥ तुलसिदास प्रभु! दसा सीयकी मुख करि कहत होति अति गौन। दीजै दरस, दूरि कीजै दुख, हौ तुम्ह आरत-आरति दौन॥ ४ ॥
Attend and hear, Rāma, Treasure of Compassion, what her condition has become in separation from you. I know something of it, yet I cannot speak it. (1) The water of her eyes, like a miser’s wealth, remains forever in their corners. The great hunter Silence forcibly keeps the bird of the cry “Ah!” confined within the cage of modesty in her heart. (2) The birds and animals of the garden where she dwells have abandoned their old homes. If the gentle breeze happens even mistakenly to meet the wind of her sighs, none of the three kinds of air ever sets foot upon that path again. (3) Lord, says Tulsīdāsa, to describe Sītā’s condition with this mouth only diminishes it. Grant her your sight and remove her grief, for you destroy the suffering of the afflicted. (4)