Tukaram, Poem 1485

I cherish a desire, but it bears no fruit, the time of accomplishment has not yet arrived. My heart is quivering like grain on a frying pan; it is swelled up like a puffed-out grain. I have no delight in the many shapes of this world; the future I know not and cannot control. I sink down and rise up again; I am caught in a whirling eddy. Tuka says, Much do I speculate, I climb one hill and descend another.