Bowing my head at the guru's feet, I will speak the words that flow by his grace, singing the heroic deeds of Hari and Hara. My proclamation is this: servitude to the servant is the highest distinction. The forerunner clears the path; drink this water of life, O fortunate ones. That which is cooler than the cool, subtler than the subtle, that nectarous juice of love, partake of it. If you would conquer, conquer pride. If you would banish anything, banish shame and vanity. If you would hold to something, hold to Shambhu's feet. Do not give Death any room; seize the advantage the moment it comes. Keep your faith rooted in pure goodness, and let the cry of 'Mahadeva, Hari-Hara' thunder from your lips. Regard another man's wife as your own mother; do not let the mind stray toward another's wealth. Hold life as cheap as grass in the cause of your master. Spend your strength in service to others; the display of the false is nothing but a sham. Truth alone ferries you across the river of existence; do not be lazy in this. Observe the vow of Ekadashi and Monday, practice worship and the vigil of Hari. Great merit lies in singing and dancing his name; worldly life, in truth, does not return. The company of saints is a treasury of the finest fame. Walk the right path and uproot the tangle of desire. Says Tuka, I carry this balanced load of worldly duty and inner freedom; the sweetness grows with every step, and the vessel of devotion brims over as the servant of Keshava dances on.