Tukaram, Poem 2011

Solve this riddle of your own yourself, what will you gain by making it press on me? Why should our salvation be a work for ever put off? You should not multiply our cares. For my sake open wider thy breast; I can find no room among men, for they have quarrelled with me. Tuka says, If the balance against me is written off, I shall leave alone this business of piling up merits.