Poem 676

In plain words

'Before my lord I laid down my head and bowed; I begged Him to pardon me': tell Him so, Hanumān; the One whose desires all stand fulfilled guards those who come for refuge: tell Him, Hanumān, to keep His titles true; all the cutting words the ten-throated one has spoken, tell Him at last, He has given them time; that the tender Prema He showed on the day of Kākāsura has not withered: tell Him so, Hanumān; two days have gone by, full, like a dream; how can I bear it any longer in this way? If the Lord of the Solar race does not come within the month and take me back, tell Him, Hanumān, that Sītā is no more!