Tukaram, Poem 1307

They have started a game by the river; the devotees of Krishna are dancing, O brothers! Pride and wrath they have made into a footstool; they will embrace each other's feet. They dance with floods of joy; they sing strings of holy names. They have wrestled with the evil age; they surpass all others in faith. They have marked their foreheads with clay; they have adorned their necks with garlands of tulsi; they carry cymbals and tabors and streams of flowers; this is a solemn rite of incomparable joy. Through the sound of these charms the unlearned men and women have fallen into a trance, together with the wise and learned, those versed in mystic experience and possessed of mystic powers. Pride of caste, caste itself they have forgotten, they fall prostrate before each other. Their minds are purified by the butter of faith; the stones begin to melt. The sky resounds with cries of victory; the stout devotees of Vishnu are frenzied. Tuka says, Thou hast made an easy path to cross the ocean of the world.