Come, let us go see the festival of Kartik with our own eyes. Vaikuntha has come near, right here at Pandharpur. The harvest of love is overflowing; even the sky cannot contain it. All of Pandhari is intoxicated, with abundance in every home. Stately processions of Garuda banners move with a steady pace, and the deep sounds of cymbals, chanting, and drums resound. Noble elephants sway with joy, and heroes rise, each surpassing the other. Waves of the nectar of the Name fill the air, and all the gatherings are brimming. The host of Vaishnavas has arrived, and even Death trembles before them. Brahma and the other gods look on with longing at the joy on the sands and say: blessed, blessed are these mortals, how fortunate they are. Kashi grants liberation at death, Gaya frees one from ancestral debts, but at Pandharpur, at Vitthoba's feet, there is no such delay. Says Tuka, what worry remains for us now? The giver of all accomplishments will never forsake us.