Valmiki Ramayana 3.45.3

3.45.3

duhitā janakasyāhaṃ maithilasya mahātmanaḥ
sītā nāmnāsmi bhadraṃ te rāmabhāryā dvijottama

As, clad in mendicant's disguise,
He questioned thus his destined prize,
She to the seeming saintly man
The story of her life began.
'My guest is he,' she thought, 'and I,
To 'scape his curse, must needs reply:'
'Child of a noble sire I spring
From Janak, fair Videha's king.
May every good be thine! my name
Is Sítá, Ráma's cherished dame.
Twelve winters with my lord I spent
Most happily with sweet content
In the rich home of Raghu's line,
And every earthly joy was mine.
Twelve pleasant years flew by, and then
His peers advised the king of men,
Ráma, my lord, to consecrate
Joint ruler of his ancient state.
But when the rites were scarce begun,
To consecrate Ikshváku's son,
The queen Kaikeyí, honoured dame,
Sought of her lord an ancient claim.
Her plea of former service pressed,
And made him grant her new request,
To banish Ráma to the wild
And consecrate instead her child.
This double prayer on him, the best
And truest king, she strongly pressed
'Mine eyes in sleep I will not close,
Nor eat, nor drink, nor take repose.
This very day my death shall bring
If Ráma be anointed king.'
As thus she spake in envious ire,
The aged king, my husband's sire,
Besought with fitting words, but she
Was cold and deaf to every plea.
As yet my days are few; eighteen
The years of life that I have seen;
And Ráma, best of all alive,
Has passed of years a score and five-
Ráma the great and gentle, through
All region famed as pure and true,
Large-eyed and mighty-armed and tall.