The Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki 2.47.23

2.47.23

śocantyāś cālpabhāgyāyā na kiṃ cid upakurvatā
purtreṇa kim aputrāyā mayā kāryam ariṃdama

'Parrot, the capturer's talons tear,
While yet alone thou flutterest there.
Before his mouth has closed on me:'
So cried the bird, herself to free.
Reft of her son, in childless woe,
My mother's tears for ever flow:
Ill-fated, doomed with grief to strive.
What aid can she from me derive?
Pressed down by care, she cannot rise
From sorrow's flood wherein she lies.
In righteous wrath my single arm
Could, with my bow, protect from harm
Ayodhyá's town and all the earth:
But what is hero prowess worth?
Lest breaking duty's law I sin,
And lose the heaven I strive to win,
The forest life today I choose,
And kingly state and power refuse.'