You brute, when my husband

cries in pain, you stand there

without any qualms, alas!

certainly hard-hearted, you are

 

It’s not the demons wailing

it’s certainly Rama himself

Alas! you please go to him now

armed with your bow and arrows

 

Sloka:

The golden deer fell with a roar hit by Rama’s arrow. Sita heard that sound and thought Rama was injured by the demon. She spoke to Lakshmana.

O my husband, look at its emerald

neck, and the beautiful horns

 

Its four hoofs are silver, its body golden

it’s jumping about and grazing on grass

 

With its beautiful glow and playful nature

I have taken a fancy to this spotted deer