“Expelled from power the woods I tread, My spouse is lost, the bird is dead. A fate so sad, I ween, would tame The vigour of the glorious flame. If I to cool my fever tried To cross the deep from side to side, The sea,—so hard my fate,—would dry His waters as my feet came nigh.

In plain words: Rama says he has lost his kingdom, his wife is gone, and now the bird is dying. He feels so unlucky that even the ocean would dry up if he tried to cool off in it.