I have little faith or intellect, a short life and no
control over it. I am a molten image of guilt,
do Thou who art the image of the Vedas, hear me!
How shall I throw off my guilt? I am soiled within
by actions good and bad. There was a past,
there is a present, there will be a future; it is impossible to reach the end. To this body belongs a
history of manifold action, the revolution of eight
million re-births, the influx of the three qualities;
it is a prison formed by our past, with birth and
age and death appointed for it. The soul resembles
not the body, wherein the five elements are
mingled. It is ordered and contrived by the past;
an empty worthless ear of corn. Son, daughter,
brother,—the whole range of family connections,—
they are even as logs of wood that meet in a great
flood, and are parted when the waters subside.
Therefore I beg this much of thee that thou wilt
end my ignorance; Thou art the merciful Lord of
the world. Tuka clasps Thy feet and entreats Thee.
control over it. I am a molten image of guilt,
do Thou who art the image of the Vedas, hear me!
How shall I throw off my guilt? I am soiled within
by actions good and bad. There was a past,
there is a present, there will be a future; it is impossible to reach the end. To this body belongs a
history of manifold action, the revolution of eight
million re-births, the influx of the three qualities;
it is a prison formed by our past, with birth and
age and death appointed for it. The soul resembles
not the body, wherein the five elements are
mingled. It is ordered and contrived by the past;
an empty worthless ear of corn. Son, daughter,
brother,—the whole range of family connections,—
they are even as logs of wood that meet in a great
flood, and are parted when the waters subside.
Therefore I beg this much of thee that thou wilt
end my ignorance; Thou art the merciful Lord of
the world. Tuka clasps Thy feet and entreats Thee.