Neither people nor animals tremble more from the cold,
Under the great mountain they're discussing this magic.
The golden fur of calves dried up soon, and the winds,
Could blow as strong as they liked, they couldn't scare a soul.

Slowly the days passed thus, gloomy, overcast,
But Vrindavan's good folks did not shed a tear.
For seven days Gopal was holding up the mountain,
Like a tiny pebble, with His secure hand.

The clouds attack some more, with a heavy ice sleet,
They were roaring in vain with a frightening boom.
Under Mount Govarddhan the song was sung merrily:
"Miraculous Gopal, we love You, we adore You!"

The clouds finally tired, their self-esteem abating,
Time to time the sun was peeking through them all.