Tukaram, Poem 1212

The infant Hari is playing in Mathura, with anklets on his feet, necklace, girdle, and armlets. His mother looks on His face; her spirit cannot contain her joy. Blessed are mankind today; Brahma has been embodied in their store of merit! Sweet child! Yet I waste my time in speaking so,—child dearer to me than life itself! Men and women of all classes gather in crowds; they forget who they are; mothers and daughters have forgotten their homes. They lay aside fear and all that belongs to it; hunger and thirst are vanished; even though they stay at home, their spirits are with Him; eagerly each seeks to find a time to meet him. All delicacy, all care of their persons they have forgotten; there is no place for shame here; each forsakes her pleasant bed and runs towards Him. Girls, men and women, all are fascinated; women playing with their children have forgotten even them. Young men and maidens have lost all sense of themselves; when once they see Him, they cannot remove their eyes from Him. Enmity ceases among them; none distinguishes himself from others. Grief, longing for home, and sorrow are crushed and forgotten. Tuka says, He has filled them with joy like His own; my Lord plays with affectionate joy in the image of a child.