IHAVE been harassed by the world; I have dwelt in my mother’s womb; I must enter the gate of the womb eight million times; I am born a needy beggar; my life is passed under a stranger's power; I am fast bound in the meshes of my past; the fated influence of the past continues with me, it puts forth its power and whirls me along. My PERPLEXING ASPECT OF THE WOkLD H5 stomach is empty; I am never at rest; I have no fixed course or home or village. I have no power, O God, to end my wanderings; my soul dances about like rice frying in a pan. Ages have passed inthis futile strain; I know not how many more await me. I cannot close my course, for it begins again; so the end of the world must set me free. Who will finish this suffering of mine ? Who will take my burden on himself? Thy name will convey me over the sea of the world; thou dost run to help the distressed. Now run to me, O Narayana, me, poor and wretched that T am; consider not my merits or my faults; Tuka implores thy mercy.