Tukaram, Poem 121

O Narayana, do not send me the fellowship of women, nor even that of dolls, clay or wooden. This woman has taken from me the remembrance of God and His worship; my mind was tempted and I could not forbear talking to her. At the sight of her face death entered in through my senses. Beauty is the true root of sorrow. Tuka says, If fire should become a saint, it has the power to burn one who touches it.