Tukaram, Poem 3474

All the world is false and illusive; I have no power to discern the real. It is all legerdemain, and I think it all genuine; as I look upon it, it all vanishes. I am now grieved within me; tell me speedily of some remedy. I see not what is to become of me; I have laid my head at Thy feet. Save me, O Infinite One, says Tuka.