I shall sing ovis of the God of Pandhari. Panduranga is our very life. My chitta has been dyed at His feet; therefore let me reap this blessed harvest. This alone shall be my gain in this world: Rama, Krishna, Hari, Narayana. No amount of austerity or pilgrimage can equal what comes from chanting Narayana's Name to Tuka. The dust of the saints' feet is honored as holy by all the sacred sites; those who sing Hari's glories are venerated everywhere. They who sing His praises have become worthy of worship; who can measure their greatness? Even the Vedas could not fathom His extent, nor could the sages with all their inquiry. As one contemplates, He becomes whatever their devotion makes Him; yet no one truly knows the bliss of the Self. No one grasps this wonder, this divine play. While souls sleep, He conducts the business of creation. He plays His sport as a game, pervading all yet standing apart, watching. In the end, He alone is real. All this display is but an actor's costume. He has set the world spinning with the sense of 'I' and 'mine.' Who causes beings to experience what they experience? Entangled in sense pleasures, they have forgotten You, lost in children, wealth, and greed. Greed swallows the hook of desperate hope; the fish, having taken the bait, writhes in agony. Their agony would cease if they would only remember this Vitthal. But such remembrance comes only through the company of saints, or through the merit of past lives. The fruits of past actions across three lifetimes are realized through experience. What one has done, one receives; what one does next shapes the future. Knowing what lies ahead, accumulate good merit; honor the guests, the gods, and the brahmins. The cycle of birth does not break so easily for worldly people; practice dharma for the sake of a better future. Perform chanting, austerity, rituals, and worship. The saints have established this path. The prescribed actions and pure conduct, through them one will reach God in time. The selfless and generous one arrives swiftly. He who has conquered the great enemy of desire prevails. Unless the root of desire is severed, do not claim to be liberated. Do not claim to be a scholar or a reciter just because you chant mantras and syllables. Worldly people have been led astray by their own preferences, by the pride of the body, by vanity and pretense. True happiness comes only through the essence of devotion: the Name of Rama always on the lips. The utterance of Rama settles on the tongue only through the merit of countless births. What merit can stand before the Name of Rama? What are those petty rituals and sacrifices? Rituals, sacrifices, and austerities only perpetuate the world; without the Name, they cannot cut through it. Without the Name, how can the ocean of existence be crossed? There is no other wisdom. The great devotees and sages know this: the Name is the treasury of nectar's joy. The essence of nectar, the seed of the highest truth, the innermost secret of secrets is Rama's Name. The Name has delivered countless wrongdoers beyond all measure. This is the well-known truth of the Puranas. This joy we shall take at all times, performing the pure story of Hari. During the kirtan, everyone attains samadhi; at once the wicked mind is destroyed. Greed, delusion, desire, craving, and illusion all perish when one sings the glories of Vitthoba. The virtues of Vitthoba are dear to me. Nothing else attracts my chitta. Let no one suggest any other remedy to me. My chitta holds no second allegiance. Knowing this, I have given my whole being. I have firmly grasped His feet. Having grasped them, I will not let go even at the cost of my life. My resolve is fixed in this alone. I have severed my ties with worldly existence and settled firmly here. Panduranga has accepted me and dyed me in His own color. He has spread His wing of protection over me; God Himself takes care of us. When God protects you, what can others do? Their schemes have no power there. Not even Death can enter when one is called the servant of Vitthoba. We are the cherished little ones of Vitthoba. The demons and Death tremble in dread of His devotees. The fear and authority of the Lord span all three worlds. Remember Him, all of you. Do not lie sleeping, anyone. Wake up and escape the mines of rebirth and the agonies of the womb. The suffering of the womb and the punishment of Yama bring great torment in the coming and going. Hunger, thirst, and pain afflict the living. After death, the messengers of Yama torment. You say, who has ever witnessed this? The Kauravas plunged headlong into hell. Duryodhana was cast into the boiling cauldron of Kumbhipaka and could not show his face to Dharma. Dharma, the compassionate one, came near and sat in the nether world, unable to rise. He cannot rise, no matter what is tried. God makes each one reap what they have sown. Those who have forgotten Narayana in this world truly dwell in the most terrible hells. Accept the words of the saints as truth and go, all of you, to Narayana for refuge. Do not put your trust in anything else: not in sons, wife, hopes, or wealth. Wealth, greed, and the snares of attachment are traps set by the messengers of Yama. Their agents have muzzled your mouths so that the word Narayana cannot escape your lips. They do not let pure wisdom touch your chitta; all manner of karmic burdens keep God far away. Many who considered themselves wise have been estranged by slander, ego, disputation, and divisiveness. Strife, division, and slander are the tricks of Death. They entrap the idle tongue with pointless words. The idle mind wanders, unable to decide whether God exists or not, and is yoked to the mill of worry. In the end, Death places a rope around your neck and tidies up the loose ends of desire. If desire's company persists at the hour of death, one takes birth again, even if endowed with the power of austerity. Those who have held God in their chitta will remember their former states. Remember God at the hour of death. That is why the courageous ones have given their lives for this purpose. The sages gave up all pleasures and ate roots and tubers in the forest. The root of happiness lies in God; without Him, one is dragged to the lowest state even for the smallest lapse. The best path and the best effort is this: hold the feet of Vitthoba. Once settled at Vitthoba's feet with devotion, there is no need to go anywhere else, not even to the forest. Even the weak are saved by Vitthoba's Name, even those who have no store of pure merit. If the chitta is pure, what marvel is it? Simply saying 'Vitthal' again and again is enough. No one holds the hour of their death in their own hands. The course of destiny cannot be known. Destiny cannot be escaped without experiencing it. Knowing this, purify your store of merit. Strive for your own welfare during this human birth. If you use the human birth to find Narayana, well and good. Otherwise you are lower than a beast. Animals know nothing of sin or merit. Humans, however, are aware of such things. People know what sin and merit are, for they see others experiencing the results. Some will suffer the sorrows of worldly life. The varieties of misery are beyond telling. They want to eat well, dress well, and live in comfort. This is the only ambition of their worldly existence. The world has swallowed everyone whole, feeding them the fruit of rebirth. Unless the root of desire is cut, the cycle of the womb cannot be ended. Without effort, nothing is gained. One should not passively ride the current of fate. Do not force your body upon thorns. Do not carelessly grasp a serpent. What lies in one's own hands can be worked for one's benefit. Therefore the sages have spoken. They teach these people, even if it means embarrassing them, for they themselves are the ones who crossed over. They raised their arms in the sand-bed of Pandhari. The ocean of grace is Panduranga. At His feet, the river of sins is washed clean, when those sacred feet are contemplated in the chitta. By whose contemplation stones were made to float, He liberates by the mere touch of His feet. Clap your hands and there is no need to sit in rigid meditation. Take the joy of divine love in the company of saints. In the company of saints, do kirtan and tell the sacred story. The joyful path is simply Rama, Rama. Then God can go nowhere far. He settles within and stays in your throat. He pervades the entire body and does not let you forget Him. He does not let His servants see suffering. He wards off rebirth and the messengers of Yama. He does not let hunger, thirst, or worry touch His devotees. All anxieties are dispelled by taking the Name. All living beings are also souls, yet they are bound by their accumulated actions. Those who were puffed up with body-pride were shown Narayana's grace. This God is compassionate, the shelter of the helpless. We are attached to His hope. Panduranga has yoked us to Himself. Says Tuka, through the company of the saints.

I will sing ovis of the God of Pandhari. Panduranga is our very life. My heart has been dyed at his feet; so let me reap this blessed harvest. This alone shall be my gain in this world: Rama, Krishna, Hari, Narayana. When Tuka chants the Name of Narayana, no heaps of austerity or pilgrimage can equal it. The pilgrimage sites honor on their heads the dust of the saints' feet, the saints who sing Hari's praise. Those who sing his praise have become worthy of worship; who can tell their greatness? The Vedas did not reach the end of him, nor the sages with all their inquiry. He becomes whatever their devotion makes him; yet no one truly knows the bliss of the Self. No one grasps this wonder, this play. While souls sleep, he carries on the work of creation. He plays his sport as a game, filling all things yet standing apart and watching. In the end he alone is real; all this show is an actor's costume. He has set the world spinning with the sense of I and mine. Who makes beings taste what they taste? Tangled in the senses, they have forgotten you, lost in daughters, sons, kin, and the greed for wealth. Greed swallows the hook of desperate hope; the fish, having taken the bait, writhes. Its writhing would grow still if only it remembered this Vitthal. But such remembering comes through the company of saints, or through the merit of past lives. The fruits of three lifetimes are known through what one tastes; what you have done you receive, and what you do now shapes what comes. Knowing what lies ahead, gather good merit; honor the guests, the gods, the brahmins. The chain of birth does not break so easily for worldly people; do dharma for the sake of a better future. Do chanting, austerity, ritual, and worship; the saints have laid down this road. Through the prescribed acts and pure conduct, one reaches God in time. The selfless and generous one comes swiftly; he who has conquered the great enemy of desire prevails. Until the root of desire is cut, let no one claim to be freed. Do not claim to be a scholar or reciter just because you chant mantras and syllables. Worldly people have been led astray by their own likings, by pride of body, by show and vanity. True joy comes only through the heart of devotion: the Name of Rama always on the lips. The utterance of Rama settles on the tongue only through the merit of countless births. What merit can stand before the Name of Rama? What are those poor little rituals and sacrifices? Rituals, sacrifices, austerities only keep the world going; without the Name they cannot cut through it. Without the Name, how is the ocean of existence crossed? There is no other wisdom. The great devotees and sages know this: the Name is the treasury of nectar's joy. The essence of nectar, the seed of the highest truth, the secret of secrets, is Rama's Name. By the Name countless wrongdoers beyond measure have been saved; this is the known truth of the Puranas. This joy we shall take at all times, doing the pure story of Hari. During the kirtan everyone falls into samadhi; at once the wicked mind is destroyed. Greed, delusion, hope, craving, and illusion all perish when one sings the praise of Vithoba. The virtues of Vithoba are dear to me; nothing else holds my heart. Let no one suggest any other remedy to me; my heart holds no second love. Knowing this, I have given my whole being and firmly grasped his feet. Having grasped them, I will not let go even at the cost of my life; my resolve is fixed in this alone. I have cut my ties with the world and settled firmly here. Panduranga has accepted me and dyed me in his own color. He has spread his wing of shelter over me; God himself takes care of us. When God guards you, what can others do? Their schemes have no power there. Death cannot enter when one is called the servant of Vithoba. We are the cherished little ones of Vithoba; the demons and Death tremble in dread of his devotees. His fear and authority span the three worlds. Remember him, all of you. Do not lie sleeping. Wake and escape the wombs of rebirth and the agonies of the womb. The pain of the womb, the rod of Yama, the great weariness of coming and going. Hunger, thirst, and pain strike the living; after death the messengers of Yama torment. You ask, who has ever seen this? The Kauravas plunged into hell. Duryodhana was cast into the boiling cauldron and could not show his face to Dharma. Dharma, the kind one, came near and sat in the lower world, unable to rise. He cannot rise, no matter what is tried; God makes each reap what he has sown. Those who forgot Narayana in the world truly dwell in the most terrible hells. Take the saints' words as true, and go, all of you, to Narayana for refuge. Do not put your trust in anything else: not sons, wife, hopes, wealth. Wealth, greed, the snares of attachment, these are the traps set by Yama's messengers. His agents have gagged your mouths so the word Narayana cannot escape. They do not let pure wisdom touch your heart; all kinds of karma keep God far off. Many who thought themselves wise have been estranged by slander, ego, dispute, and division. Strife, division, and slander are the tricks of Death; they trap the idle tongue with empty words. The idle mind cannot decide whether God is or is not, and is yoked to the mill of worry. In the end Death puts a rope around your neck and tidies up the loose ends of desire. If desire's company stays at the hour of death, one takes birth again, even with the power of austerity. Those who held God in their hearts will remember their former states. Remember God at the hour of death. That is why the brave ones gave their lives for this. The sages gave up all pleasures and ate roots and tubers in the forest. The root of joy is God; for a small lapse one is dragged to the lowest state. The best path, the best effort, is this: hold the feet of Vithoba. Once settled at Vithoba's feet with love, there is no need to go anywhere, not even to the forest. Even the weak are saved by Vithoba's Name, even those with no store of pure merit. If the merit is pure, what marvel is that? Simply saying Vitthal again and again is enough. No one holds the hour of death in his own hands; the course of destiny cannot be known. Destiny cannot be escaped without being lived through; knowing this, purify your store of merit. Strive for your own good in this human birth. If you use this human birth to find Narayana, well and good; otherwise you are lower than a beast. Animals know nothing of sin or merit; humans know these things. People know what sin and merit are, for they see others reap their results. Some will suffer the sorrows of the world; the kinds of misery are beyond telling. To eat well, dress well, live in comfort, that is their only ambition in the world. The world has swallowed everyone whole, feeding them the fruit of rebirth. Until the root of desire is cut, the cycle of the womb cannot end. Without effort nothing is won; do not passively ride the current of fate. Do not throw your body on thorns; do not carelessly grasp a serpent. What is in your own hands can be worked for your good; so the sages have said. They teach these people even at the cost of shaming them, for they themselves are the ones who crossed. They raised their arms in the sand-bed of Pandhari: Panduranga, the ocean of grace. At his feet the river of sins is washed clean, when those feet are held in the heart. By whose contemplation stones were made to float, he lifts you up by the touch of his feet. Clap your hands; you need not sit in rigid meditation. Take the joy of love in the company of saints. In the company of saints do kirtan and tell the sacred story; the joyful means is Rama, Rama. Then God cannot go anywhere far; he settles within and stays in your throat. He fills the whole body and does not let you forget him. He does not let his servant see suffering; he wards off the womb and the messengers of Yama. He does not let hunger, thirst, or worry touch them; all cares go when the Name is taken. They too are living beings, all of them, yet bound by their gathered karma. Those who woke from body-pride, on them Narayana showed his grace. This God is kind, the shelter of the helpless; we have set our hope on him. Tuka says: Panduranga has yoked us to himself, through the company of the saints.