Tukaram, Poem 2611

We enclose Thee in metal to worship Thee,
but there are fourteen worlds within.
We carry Thee round and display Thee with fond
affection, but Thou hast neither form nor lineaments.
We sing songs for Thee, but thou art far
beyond speech. We put wreaths of flowers on Thee,
but Thou art untouched by actions. Tuka says,
Assume now a form and consider how Thou
mayest do some good to me.