Tukaram, Poem 2411

Brush aside all that clings to you; choose the good path; pass quietly along it, pausing from moment to moment. You see printed on the ground the footprints of those who have gone before you; the world around is a confused wilderness. Mark what has been spent from time to time before you; be an assurance of strength to those that follow you. Tuka says, Deliver to the last goods equal to the sample shown.