With joy in their hearts the people say,

“Perfect for Sita is Rama in every way.”

At the grand nuptials they rejoice,

Singing their glories with melodious a voice.

Influence of time suddenly gone,

As image of couple they dwell upon.

Though from propriety so commonly to depart,

Joy from Sita and Rama to fill even this wretch’s heart.

Though company of past saints bereft,

Thankful that some words to me left.

To their instruction and wisdom I cleave,

That consciousness of them never to leave.

To pass on my own thoughts only fair,

To let others know my mind situated where.

Name of Sita the most my heart to please,

Let all others too on that opportunity seize.

Of poetic ability not a trace,

To please senses always in a race.

A sadhana never for long kept,

Towards base activities he’s leapt.

Still somehow through it all,

Name of Sita he humbly calls.

Though in this effort offenses so many,

Chances that he’ll discontinue not any.

This wretch, certainly vile the most,

Of evil thoughts and sinful qualities a host.

Still somehow Sita he’s found,

In loving affection to her bound.

In hopes of her more to know,

In glorifying her on he goes.

Though fit for such service he’s not,

Considers that greatest fortune he’s got.

Friends in my life unfortunately not many,

Intimate connection certainly not with any.

So to commune with the saintly I try,

From books and words to cure loneliness my.

Philosophers and statesmen, not religious are all,

But in their words humility and character stand tall.

But one subject matter to stand above the rest,

Of Sita and Rama, image for the heart the best.

Their meeting so happy a sight,

Causing town’s many faces to alight.

Fears and worries off and shook,

Sita as his new bride Shri Rama took.

A match in heaven certainly made,

In loving glances all obeisances paid.

To honor again in even time now,

To never forget I take this vow.

Upon victory from bow’s being bent,

To new husband Rama she went.

With winner’s garland in her hand,

Thrilled were people of Tirahuta’s land.

Search diligently here, there and everywhere,

And in the world find no more perfect a pair.

By placing flowers His neck around,

To beloved Sita Shri Rama now bound.

In writing task, start the hardest chore,

“Ideas to come how many more?

Will not eventually I run out?

And with words of praise be without?”

So to benevolent Vaishnavas I pray,

That to glorify Janaki further I may.

That gift seldom offered I’m well aware,

Promise to give proper attention and care.

“Be done with this chore now,

To write again and again how?

How much more to tell you’ve got?

Of reliving that day sick are you not?”

To such a detractor I emphatically say,

To find end of Janaki’s glories no possible way!

So beautiful that beloved wedding day,

In life after life to remember it I pray.

She of the divine nature for sure,

For sound of name alone is pure.

Of beauty, charm and elegant grace,

In pure goodness, with sin not a trace.

For this mind most sacred field,

Day that union with Rama did yield.

All the best for the most glorious wife,

To her offering my attention and poetic life.