Tukaram, Poem 1193

The sacred marks, the cap, the garland, all the furniture of God he carries for his belly’s sake—a vile burden. He wears in his ear the tulsi, the darbha grass in his hair; hypocritically he holds the end of his nose. As he sings the praises of God, he weeps and throws himself on the ground; tears flow from his eyes, though no true tears. Tuk says, Such is a deceitful impostor; Govinda is not with him.