Tukaram, Poem 2988

The more I crave for objects of sense, the longer sojourn in the womb is my portion, the more there clings to me the sin of desiring the unreal. Now, be things as they will, let repentance dwell in me; only let me get rid of ‘Mine’ and ‘Other’s’. As long as we are awake, what can a dream destroy? When the words of men annoy us, we should look on the pain they cause us as unreal. An ape is irritated by his image in a well; he jumps in there, but what does he find? Tuka says, He breaks his head and knees and elbows.