My caste is low, my intellect is low, my deeds are low. Abandoning all shame, I have come to Your shelter. Come, O my mother and father, O King of Pandhari. Without You, my body is exhausted and my strength has wasted away. You are rightly called the Lord of the meek, the brother of the lowly. Your pledge as the savior of the fallen resounds everywhere. Says Tuka, standing upon the brick, hands upon the hips; this alone is our meditation, day and night.