śrīrāmapremāṣṭakam

Eight verses by Yamunacharya, whose name the closing verse gives, and the first of them is entirely a picture: the colour of a dark raincloud, eyes wide as lotuses, lips and hands and feet like the bandhuka flower, glad with Sita beside him, bow and arrow in hand — I bow my head to Rama in his lovely dress. The second turns to the battlefield and to one moment of it, the sound of the bow taken up as deep as a heavy cloud, a single arrow drawn from the quiver, the word of safety given, his brother at his side. Rama is the helper in this hymn, and the word each verse arrives at is that: the one who is at hand.