O Gorilla O Gorilla rise from your slumber, O creative power sleeping in Man – O Pitamaha , O grandfather who first saw the sun and moon wake! The Mankind is imploring helplessly for you. The palaces you have built have collapsed. The man you sculptured is in ruins, this is not the time to sleep Gorilla, wake up. I am at your great door, weaving songs, singing songs shouting songs; the birth of all these songs is only to shake off your sleep, the song not written in this age to wake you is a great horror, the song written as lullaby to set you to sleep is a great crime. O Creative Power I am devoted to you forever
Can’t you hear the voice of my song? I am strumming the strings of my heart and have made storms my fingers , Rise Gorilla , O Gorilla residing in my hands , O Gorilla residing in the axe borne by my hand
O Gorilla rise, who strikes the throat of injustice at one stroke , who blows deluges – Look if you sleep how the fields are sleeping . if you sleep how those chimneys of factories are standing empty without smoke. O Sage Of Action ( Karma Yogi ) come out of your meditation ( Yoga Samadhi ) . The Man you made with your hands is emaciated into a mere intellectual ( a mere Gnana Yogi ). He is reduced to sheer impotence. Come lift humanity with your thousand, thousand weapons.
Your are the great ferocious form who broke the Paleolithic egg and rushed out , like the dreadful wind at the end of creation . Don’t you hear the orchestra of wailing voices of the peoples of the world?
You are the first dawn in the horizons of Mankind. Your great hand of that morning which went out to grab with hunger the great golden fruit of the rising sun ; that hand is the birthplace of our mind
You first saw the light and then showed us the way to see that blue expanse, where all the families of lights live. you stood up on your legs and taught us the art of standing . Living in the muscles of our hands you created and gave to us fields, harvests , gardens , palaces and a hundred prosperities – You raised pillars of conquest on the earth to the creative power , with your thousand hands you built villages and towns , empires and literatures , and hoisted magnificent flags to the glory of intellect in our brain.
You are the great symbol of humanity, you are the righteous flag of Justice, your frightful and inexorable axe is the most fluent answer to injustice, where is it sleeping now?
O Pitamaha ! my fore – Father , hear the crying children who are like angels subjected to brute force and malnutrition , death is at their doors. You played with star - babies, Tejasvi , open your eyes , open your eyes .
You are born to the youth of our Mother earth; you have taken the roaring wind for your span of life. Your have taken the raw power of the oceans of the final destruction as your flesh and blood; the flames of fire have turned into your eyes and the whole sky stands as your voice – Where is that which does not succumb to your O my ancestor? it is you who battled with dinosaur the ancient prehistoric beast and initiated us into the skills of the art of destroying the bestiality of aggressor and the exploiter come over my body and possess me O Gorilla .
Set our shoulders to the truths and carry us to the regions of sacred violence. Let heroes of action and heroes of self sacrifice emerge from every hair of your body in millions and millions, and lift this sinking earth, resurrect its life to the sacred pedestal.
We are throwing our hearts as incense into the flames of your fury , rise Gorilla , we are throwing voices into the celestial fires of your heart . Rise from the Homa - Agni – The whole age has become emaciated into half its size. In tense expectation of your arrival Gorilla the fire is expiring.
Take us to your own world, where even flowers like possessed sibyls consumed by anger fight against the springs, where jungles like mothers of war – heroes loosen their locks of hair and wearing lightening around their necks, dance the dance of Pralay . Where the skies spit on hypocrisy and do not shower rains. Where the echoes of axes reverberate mellifluously in all directions fo creation. Where false leaders and poets are removed from their chairs and thrown into tanks of boiling oil , where there are only storms but no fragrant breezes , where there are only oceans and no lotus – lakes , to those great worlds lead us.
Show us once your divine form O Great Purusha ( Maha –Purusha ) Man stands like a boy crying for your Darshan , grant him his wish , come , carrying lofty temple – towers on your firm shoulders , wearing as anklets skulls of modern demons wearing countless dreadful fatal weapons axes , bombs , spears , cannons and nuclear explosives in your thousands of hands ; setting your left foot slightly back as seen in the icons of ancient sculpture , setting your right leg on the chest of demon – leader , with the dreadful axe in your right hand , and the chopped head of the office held by hair in your left hand your ferocious bloody tongue jutting out of your mouth .

Grant us the Sakshatkar of your titanic person. O Pithamaha ,
throw your fiery eye – balls on this rotting country O Gorilla O Gorilla -