Tukaram, Poem 2107

While I utter His name, my throat is cooled;
my senses forget their business. It is
sweeter and more delicious than nectar; my soul
has espoused its cause. The lustre of my body is
heightened by the nourishment of love; my limbs
shake off the triple fever. Tuka says, We need
talk of disease no more; all will be satisfied.