Original · Devanagari
जनककिशोरी जू के जावक रचनकाज नउने नवेली नाई आई अतिहीं उतावरी । धोवति धवल जल भरिके परातमाहिं पद-जलजाततल जीत जे गुलावरी ॥ परे प्रतिबिम्ब बिम्बरंग रसरङ्गमणी होत वारि फेरि फेरि लावै भरि चावरी । दै चुकी कि देनौ ऐसो करौंते विचार उर बावरीसी भई लिए करगे महावरी ॥८॥ (दोहा) रूपराशि सिय को लखत रती रती भर होय । उभय रमा महा समा तिल तिलोत्तमा सोय ॥१॥ निकट वशिष्ठ जाके कानन अशोक सोहे मोहे मन कल्पवृक्ष लगे खंड खंड हैं । ललित लतान को निकुंज छविपुंज फली गर्जे आलि कोकिल मयूर सोर मंड हैं ॥ रमें सखी सखन समेत नित्य सीताराम मणिरसरङ्ग मोदमेघ को घमंड हैं । अवध सुवाग में मनोहर महान प्यारो सुखद श्रीसीताकुंड-मंडित अखंड हैं ॥९॥ (सवैया) लोचन लाल के लोभी अली लाले कंज विलोचन श्यामल फूले । आनन श्रीरघुनन्द को चन्द सियाचख चारु चकोरक भूले ॥ जानकि जानकी जान कि जान पियारी के प्रीतम प्रानसमूले । या रसरङ्गमणी के हिया सेजिया बसिया रसिया समतूले ॥१०॥ (कवित्त) राजे सिंहासन पै अभिराम सीताराम लाजें लखि सोम काम कोटि मारतंड हैं । भाजे श्रीभरत शत्रुमदन लखनलाल हनुमन्त मंत्री मित्र दास सखा मंड हैं ॥ छाजें छत्र चौर चहुँ ओर और साज लिए चाप असी राजमाधुरी घमंड हैं । पान को पवावै रसरङ्गमणी गावै जस ध्यावै अस अवधविहारी को अखंड है ॥११॥ इति बालकाण्डम् समाप्तम् ॥
Fresh English translation
To paint red lac upon Janaka’s daughter, an eager young attendant hurried in. She filled a basin with clear water and washed the lotus soles that had conquered every rose. Their coloured reflection fell in the water, says Rasarangamaṇi, and in her delight she kept bringing the vessel back again and again. ‘Have I already applied it, or should I now?’ Wondering so, bewildered at heart, she stood with the red dye in her hand. Each instant spent beholding Sītā’s treasury of beauty becomes an instant filled with love. Lakṣmī and Rati together, and even Tilottamā, do not equal her by a sesame seed. Near Vasiṣṭha’s hermitage an Aśoka grove enchants the mind, its wish-fulfilling trees appearing in clusters. Lovely bowers of creepers are masses of splendour; bees hum, and cuckoos and peacocks form choirs of sound. There Sītā and Rāma sport eternally with their sakhīs and companions; for Maṇi Rasarangamaṇi, they are the towering cloud of delight. Within fortunate Ayodhyā, lovely, immense, beloved, and joy-giving, the whole place is adorned by sacred Sītā-kuṇḍa. The bees of the Beloved’s eyes covet the red lotuses of Sītā’s eyes while dark lotuses bloom. Sītā’s lovely cakora-eyes lose themselves in the moon-face of Raghunandana. Jānakī knows the life of her life, the beloved root of her own breath. That incomparable lover dwells upon the bed of Rasarangamaṇi’s heart. Charming Sītā and Rāma shine upon the lion-throne; seeing them, moon, Love, and ten million suns are ashamed. Śrī Bharata, Śatrughna, dear Lakṣmaṇa, Hanumān, ministers, friends, servants, and companions attend them. Parasols and fly-whisks fill every side; bow and sword and every royal ornament proclaim the majesty of kingship. Rasarangamaṇi offers betel, sings their fame, and meditates ceaselessly upon the Player of Ayodhyā. Thus ends the Bālakāṇḍa.