I am a Shudra by caste; trade was my family's occupation. Our ancestral deity has been God from the very beginning. It is not proper for me to speak of this, but you saints have asked, so I honor your question. Worldly life made me exceedingly sorrowful. My parents died in hard times. Famine seized our wealth and honor; my wife died crying for food. Shame gripped my soul, and I grew weary of suffering when the trade began to fail. God's temple was in ruins, and my heart felt the urge to restore it. I began doing kirtan on Ekadashi, though my mind had no prior practice in it. I memorized some teachings of the saints with faith and reverence. I would sing their compositions and hold the refrain, purifying my heart with devotion. I drank the sacred water from the saints' feet and let go of all shame. Whatever small good I did was earned by toiling with this body. I did not heed the advice of easy-going people, for complete disgust with worldly life had taken hold. I made my own conscience the witness of truth and falsehood and did not bow to popular opinion. In a dream, I received my Guru's instruction and held firm faith in the Name. After that came the inspiration for poetry, and I fixed Vithoba's feet in my heart. There was some persecution that caused me grief in between. When my manuscripts were drowned, I sat in protest, and Narayana comforted me. To describe it all in detail would take too long; let this suffice. Things stand now as you see them; what lies ahead, only God knows. The Lord never forsakes his devotee; this much I have come to understand. Says Tuka, my entire capital is Panduranga, who made me speak.