Longing, lift this burden now
Original Marathi from the Tukaram Gatha · About Sant Tukaram
मराठी मूळ
हा चि माझा नेम धरिला हो धंदा । यावरि गोविंदा भेटी द्यावी ॥1॥
हा चि माझा ध्यास सदा सर्वकाळ । न्यावयासी मूळ येसी कधीं ॥ध्रु.॥
डोिळयांची भूक पहातां श्रीमुख । आलिंगणे सुख निवती भुजा ॥2॥
बहु चित्त ओढे तयाचिये सोई । पुरला हाकांहीं नवस नेणें ॥3॥
बहुबहु काळ जालों कासावीस । वाहिले बहुवस कळेवर ॥4॥
तुका ह्मणे आतां पाडावें हें ओझें । पांडुरंगा माझें इयावरि ॥5॥
Tukaram Gatha (Marathi Wikisource)
English Translation
This is my vow and my chosen work. On this basis, O Govinda, grant me Your meeting. This is my constant longing at all times: when will You come to take me home? My eyes hunger for the sight of Your blessed face, and my arms find joy only in Your embrace. My heart is drawn powerfully toward You, yet I do not know whether my pleas have been fulfilled. For a very long time I have been in distress, wearing out many bodies. Says Tuka, now lift this burden from me, O Panduranga. This much and no more.
We ask forgiveness for any inaccuracies in rendering Tukaram ji’s original Marathi.
In Plain Words
This is my vow, the one work I have taken up: that on this, O Govinda, You grant me Your meeting. This is my longing all day, every day: when will You come to fetch me home? My eyes hunger for the sight of Your blessed face; my arms find rest only in Your embrace. My heart is pulled hard toward You, yet I do not know whether my cries have been heard. For a long, long time I have been in torment, wearing out body after body. Tuka says: now set down this load, O Panduranga. This much, and no more.
What it means
Tukaram has narrowed his whole life to a single occupation: waiting for God to grant him a meeting. He pours out the body of that longing, the eyes starving for God's face, the arms that find peace only in embrace, the heart dragged toward him, alongside the doubt of one who has prayed long without a clear answer. He frames the wait as exhaustion across many lifetimes, bodies used up one after another in the same fruitless ache. The poem ends not with a polite request but with a demand born of that weariness: lift this burden now, Panduranga, this much and no more, I cannot carry it further.
Longing and Separation
Cries from the dark night of the soul: remonstrances, complaints, and desperate yearning.
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