My practice, my wealth, my only treasure: all of it is the feet of Vitthoba. This is a cool and pleasant path, the road to my true home, straight and near and full of ease. The company of the Vaishnavas, the singing of Rama's songs: these are my adornments and ornaments. The river of worldly existence, once an obstacle, has dried up; I simply walk across on foot. My mother and father, both standing with hands on hips, are watching for me, waiting. Says Tuka, when shall I see the temple spire? All weariness, drowsiness, and hunger have fled.