Tukaram, Poem 1215

When the feast is set, Krishna begins his frowardness; the garlanded god mixes all the food together. “Give me each kind separately!” and he claps his hands together and throws himself on the ground. “What a froward child you are! You mischievous boy, take something else!” Krishna says, “I don’t want it; what am I to do? I must not beat him. If I try to reason with him, I don’t know what to do. You have mixed them up: now separate them! Why do you torment him so, Hari?” So she makes him undo his work and puts an end to the confusion; he was pacified and sat up. “O mother, you have brought him well to his senses, laying aside your trouble in the right way! He covered the dish with his skirt, and was separating each kind of food.” His mother was amazed; when she grasped his hand, she says, “There is no one like you!” She rejoiced with overflowing gladness; she folded him in her arms and embraced him. A stream of joy was let loose at that feast. Tuka says, “O leave some remnant for me!”