O son of Sumitrā, this is the first night of our exile into the forest. From this day it behoveth you not, good betide you, to suffer your mind to grieve (by dwelling on past joys.)
इयमद्य निशा पूर्वा सौमित्रे प्रहिता वनम्। वनवासस्य भद्रं ते न चोत्कण्ठितुमर्हसि॥