IHAVE little faith or intellect, a short life and no control over it. I am a molten image of guilt, do thou who art the image of the Vedas, hear me ! How shall I throw off my guilt ? I am soiled within by actions good and bad. There was a past, there is a present, there will be a future; it is impossible to reach the end. To this body belongs a history of manifold action, the revolution of eight million re-births, the influx of the three qualities; it is a prison formed by our past, with birth and age and death appointed for it. The soul resembles not the body, wherein the five elements are mingled. It is ordered and contrived by the past; an empty worthless ear of corn. Son, daughter, brother, ; the whole range of family connections, ; they are even as logs of wood that meet in a great flood, and are parted when the waters subside. Therefore I beg this much of thee that thou wilt end my ignorance; thou art the merciful Lord of the world. Tuka clasps thy feet and entreats thee.