The
story I tell is from times before ages long,
Of the bright Orient I sing this ancient song,
About Mount Govarddhan in distant India,
And a great deed done by a child named Gopal.
He held up that mountain like a huge umbrella
Over Vrindavan's tiny little village,
This was how he saved it from the wrath of Indra
Who poured down a torrent of a rainflood from the heavens.
Vishnu, my Lord, my God, my prayers soar to Thee:
Grant it to your servant in all only Thee to see!
A blessing is dispensed by him who tells this legend,
The listeners grow blissful, purified in the end.
I am an old Yogi, to my words grant powers,
So that they could taste like nectar-brooks of flowers.
Sri
Chaitanya Saraswat Math, Nabadwip.