All the pleas I made were wasted; nothing remains but my own weariness, O Lord of Pandhari. When did You ever give me contentment? When did anyone honor my wishes? Not even a trace of a dream or a troubled vision, let alone a direct word. Now I am ashamed, O Panduranga; devotees such as these have arisen in the world. Says Tuka, I no longer have any confidence; it seems You have abandoned me. Why are you not a true Vaishnava? What pretense has blinded you? You are ashamed to say Hari, Hari, and walk about puffed up with pride. Your youth has made you lazy; you are barren and useless without real strength. You are mad for fame but ashamed to dance before the pilgrims' procession. You have traded the tulsi garland for the power of mere ornaments. How delicate you have become, claiming you cannot endure even a single Ekadashi fast. You will not bathe or apply sacred ash to your forehead. You pamper only the outer skin, while the flesh beneath is of no use. Says Tuka, calling on Padmanabhi and Vishwanath, he is still weeping.