Tukaram, Poem 484

I sit at the door waiting for him with my hand upon my brow. My thoughts and eyes are fixed upon the road to Pandhari. When shall I see him coming? I count the hours and minutes on my fingers. My left eyelid itches; my right arm throbs; my mind in its impatience forgets my body. I have no pleasure in my bed, I forget house and wife, hunger and thirst. Tuka says, Blessed will be the day when I see a messenger coming from Pandhari.