Sita

Her cheeks gleams Northern lights
And eyes glitter ruby’s bright
Ripping out maybe her heart’s string
Ever better than one with Langka’s king
Ended those thoughts when the Wind God whispered her,
“Question not the coming of your lover,
Ayodhaya prince with his great bow
Yearning for you his spirits grow”
Standing, she looked down the hill’s lows
Ravana and his army struck by arrows
Unscathed, her lover walked to her finally
Never has his words before then hurt her greatly

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