Tukaram, Poem 22

Why do you not speak, O God? Why do you make me wretched? With my life in my throat I wait for an answer; it seems You have ceased to care for me. To-day You have muffled yourself in a mantle to avoid the pollution of my presence. I am ashamed to call myself God’s; You will not ask after me, though it costs you nothing, says Tuka.