Tukaram, Poem 2813

Thy glory is so wondrous that the Vedas close their mouths before it; the mind and the breath are foot-sore before they overtake it. From Thee sun and moon derive their light; what is my reason in such a matter? How can I describe Thy splendour? The serpent with a thousand tongues cannot sufficiently praise Thee. We are Thy children, says Tuka, Thou art our Mother; O spread over us the shade of Thy hand.