Ecstasy, the harvest of love
Original Marathi from the Tukaram Gatha · About Sant Tukaram
मराठी मूळ
जालें पीक आह्मां अवघा सुकाळ । घेऊं अवघा काळ प्रेमसुख ॥1॥
जाली अराणुक अवघियांपासून । अवघा गेला सीण भाग आतां ॥ध्रु.॥
अवघा जाला आह्मां एक पांडुरंग । आतां नाहीं जग माझें तुझें ॥2॥
अवघे चि आह्मी ल्यालों अळंकार । शोभलों हि फार अवघ्यांवरी ॥3॥
तुका ह्मणे आह्मी सदेवांचे दास। करणें न लगे आस आणिकांची ॥4॥ ॥6॥
प्रकाशिलें जग आपुल्या प्रकाशें । रवि कर्मरसें अलिप्त त्या ॥ध्रु.॥
सांगणें तें तें नाहीं करणें आपण । मोलही वचन बाध जालें ॥2॥
तुका ह्मणे आह्मां भांडवल हातीं । येरझारा खाती केवढियें ॥3॥
Tukaram Gatha (Marathi Wikisource)
English Translation
The harvest has come; everything is abundance for us. We drink the nectar of love at all times. Rest has come from all directions; all fatigue and sorrow have departed. Panduranga has become everything to us; there is no more yours and mine in this world. We are adorned with every ornament and shine more brightly than all others. Says Tuka, we are servants of the true God; we need not look to anyone else.
We ask forgiveness for any inaccuracies in rendering Tukaram ji’s original Marathi.
In Plain Words
The harvest has come; everything is abundance for us. At every hour we drink the joy of love. Rest has come from every side; all weariness and sorrow are gone now. Panduranga has become everything to us; now there is no more yours and mine in this world. We are dressed in every ornament and shine more brightly than all. Tuka says: we are servants of the true God; we need not look to anyone else. The world is lit by his own light, while the sun stays untouched by the play of action. What is to be told cannot be done by oneself; even a word of price became a hindrance. Tuka says: the capital is in our hands; how can the comings and goings consume it?
What it means
Tukaram speaks from the far side of longing, where the seeking has ripened into a harvest. Every hour now tastes of the joy of love, all fatigue and sorrow are over, and the very line between mine and yours has dissolved because Panduranga has become everything. Belonging to the true God, he needs nothing from anyone else, and he wears that belonging like ornaments that outshine the world. The closing verses point past effort: as the sun lights the world yet stays untouched by what it lights, the real gift is not something the seeker can manufacture, and even bargaining over its worth gets in the way. With this capital in hand, the endless rounds of birth and death have nothing left to feed on.
Ecstasy and Joy
Triumphant happiness: poems written from the far side of the struggle.
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