As the vast earth supports all that is settled upon her, so may the embryo within you be held firm, to be brought forth at the right time, secure and steadfast as the ground beneath our feet. There are bonds of jealousy, some arising first and foremost, others following after, and the burning fire of grief that comes with them. For you, we extinguish these bonds, seeking peace within. Just as the earth, with a mind stilled, covers the dead, so may my own mind, now dead to envy, cover over the remnants of jealousy, laying them to rest. That which has lodged in your heart—the restless and unsettled mind—I release you from that jealousy, just as heat dissipates from a burning thing. May the divine beings purify me, may men purify me with their thoughts, may all creatures purify me, and may the purifying one cleanse me thoroughly. Let this cleansing be for resolve, for skill, for life, and for unharmed well-being. With both the purifier and the pressing, O god Savitar, purify us so that our sight may be clear and our vision true. There is one who burns like fire, who comes with force, and, like a drunkard, departs wailing. Let the lawless one seek another; to the one who first caused harm, let homage be rendered. Homage to Rudra, to the first harmer, to King Varuna the radiant, to the sky, the earth, and the plants. To the one who scorches and makes all forms green, to the ruddy and tawny wild one, the first harmer, I offer my homage. Three earths exist, and among them, the ground is the highest. From their very skin, I have gathered medicine. Among all medicines and herbs, you are the best, most excellent, like Soma among the nights and Varuna among the gods. Radiant and unconquered, you desire to nourish, and so you do. You are those herbs that strengthen and promote the growth of hair. The waters flow dark and tawny, splendid-winged and clad in water, rising up to the sky. They return from the seat of order; at first, with ghee, they spread out the earth. O waters, make the herbs full of milk and auspicious as you move; O Maruts with golden breasts, where you pour honey for men, you fill strength and good will. The Maruts have lifted up the rain, which fills all dwellings, moving like a girl weaving or a wife devoted to her husband. She has flowed, the waters have flowed by day and night, and I call upon these divine waters with noble intent. The waters, ever active, release themselves for guidance and act quickly for benefit. By the impulse of the divine Savitar, let humans perform their work, and may the waters and herbs be auspicious for us. From the Himalayas, the rivers flow, meeting together in the great stream. The divine waters have given me a medicine that shines in the heart. Whatever shines in my eyes, my heels, and the soles of my feet, let the waters remove all that, O healers, with your excellent healing. Mistresses of the rivers, queens of the streams, all you who dwell in the waters, grant us that medicine, so that with it we may enjoy your gifts. Those five and fifty that gather against my mind, let them all perish from here, like words that are disregarded. Those seven and seventy that gather against my neck, let them all vanish, just as disregarded speech fades away. Those nine and ninety that gather against my shoulders, let them all perish, leaving no trace. Release me from evil, O master, be gracious to us. Place whatever is evil far away, in the world of happiness, removed from us. Whoever does not remove our evil, him we shall remove. Let the evil follow another path, let it fall upon another. Let the thousand-eyed immortal cast it elsewhere, away from us; let it go to the one we hate, let it reach the one who hates us, and destroy him. If, impelled by the gods or by desire, the pigeon, messenger of Nirṛti, has come here, let us offer worship and make expiation, so that well-being may come to our two-footed and four-footed beings. May the pigeon, sent by the gods, be auspicious and bring no harm; may the divine bird bring no misfortune to our home. May Agni, the priest, accept our offering, and may the winged missile turn away from us. Let it not harm us; let the bird make its place in the fire-altar. May there be well-being for our cattle and our people; let neither the gods nor the pigeon injure us here. With a hymn, let us drive away the pigeon; let us urge it on its way. Rejoicing, let us lead the cow around and entice away the steps of misfortune, leaving them behind as we set out on the path of strength and nourishment. Let Agni forgive us; let the cow return to us. Among the gods, you have won fame—who would dare to assail you? To him who first reached the descent, who seeks out many paths and rules over the two-footed and the four-footed—to Yama, to Death—we offer homage. May that winged missile fall elsewhere; if the owl speaks, let it be in vain; if the pigeon marks the fire, let it be fruitless. Whatever messengers of Nirṛti, sent or unsent, have come to our house, let there be no trace left by the pigeon or the owl. May this fall here without enmity; may it settle here for heroic strength. Speak away, as if turning aside, follow the path of departure. As in Yama’s house you did not see the living, so here do not look upon us. The gods prepared this barley, mixed with honey, upon the stone of Sarasvatī. Indra, lord of ploughing, was present with his hundred powers, and the generous Maruts were the ploughmen. That wild, unkempt intoxication of yours, which makes a man laugh—let other forests be far from you; you, O śamī tree with a hundred branches, grow forth. O great-leaved, lovely śamī, grown strong with rain, guardian of truth, be gracious to our hair, as a mother to her children.