An arrow on the string he laid, And rushing near the bird surveyed, While earth to ocean’s distant side Trembled beneath his furious stride. With blood and froth on neck and beak The dying bird assayed to speak, And with a piteous voice, distressed, Thus Daśaratha’s son addressed:

In plain words: Rama rushes at the bird with his arrow ready, his steps shaking the earth. The dying Jatayu, with blood on his beak, tries to speak to Rama, son of King Dasharatha.