MY spirit is entangled, O Murari, by wealth; it sets my mind roaming from door to door. It dies in the search unsatisfied; the earth submits to it, yet it is not contented. I see that my own heart is not pure; I have fallen into the destructive power of the senses. My soul is ruined, for wealth brings fetters and the scourge; O Hari, do thou swiftly cut of! this evil that clings to me. Other evils too why need I count up; ; sinful illusions, evil affections. I am tortured by lust and rage; who but thou can set me free? As we gaze on the truth, sleep vanishes; sleep, sloth and pride are afraid of it. Let them not stay with me, O God; I have no desire except to see thee. Doubt brings on great evils, and shame is too much for me, while truth and devotion are far from me. Do not dismiss me, O brother of the humble; so Tuka, beseeches you.