Tukaram, Poem 2438

He who longs for honour meets with dishonour,—such misfortunes overtake the wretch. The one thing inheres in the other—vain hope prepares the way to ruin. In days bygone where has hope ever borne fruit? It goes on still begging for things it wants. Tuka says, You may call a bullock a swan; but what would be the good of this figure of speech?