Tukaram, Poem 346

I call myself his servant, but I do not act as though I were; my inward and outward parts are at variance. I show myself singing and trying to the people, but the love of Narayana dwells not within me. I know nothing of the needful secret; I am sunk in a gulf of pride. Death has carried off my treasure, hand over hand; the length of my days has been numbered. Tuka says, I seem to have wasted my life; every one will laugh at me.