Tukaram, Poem 1982

I have called on Thee till my throat is parched; my life is ebbing, my patience is gone. Why hast Thou not yet noticed this, O mother’s home of the wretched? I look on wealth as though it were a stone, on pleasures as poison. Pardon me my faults, embrace me and give me Thy love. A longing for thy form lingers in my heart, within and without I never cease to feel it. All I have to help me now is Thy feet, says Tuka.