In the ancient land where three earths are said to exist, the ground stands as the highest among them. Upon these earths, medicine is gathered from their very skin, drawing forth healing from the heart of the land. Among all medicines, one is praised as the best, the most excellent of herbs—radiant and unconquered, desiring to nourish and indeed nourishing all. This medicine strengthens and grows the hair, much like Soma among the nights or Varuna among the gods, shining in its excellence. Meanwhile, the waters move—dark-flowing, tawny, splendid-winged, adorned with moisture, rising up to the sky. They return from the seat of order, and at the beginning, with ghee, they spread out the earth. The waters, together with the golden-breasted Maruts, are invoked to make the herbs full of milk, to move auspiciously, to fill strength and goodwill, and to pour honey for humankind. The Maruts lift up the rain, which fills all dwellings, moving like a girl weaving with her spindle, like a wife for her husband. Day and night, the waters flow; the divine waters are called upon with noble intent. Active in their work, these waters release themselves for guidance, acting quickly for benefit. By the impulse of the divine Savitar, humans perform their work, and may the waters and herbs be auspicious for all. From the Himalayas, the waters flow, meeting together in the river. The divine waters grant a medicine that shines within the heart. Whatever shines in the eyes, heels, and soles of the feet, let the waters remove all of it, O healers, with your excellent healing. Mistresses of rivers, queens of streams, all you rivers who dwell, grant us that medicine, so that we may enjoy your blessings. Yet, disturbances arise—those five and fifty that gather against the mind, those seven and seventy that gather against the neck, those nine and ninety that gather against the shoulders. Let all of them perish, as disregarded speech vanishes from memory. To be released from evil, a prayer rises: O master, be gracious and place all evil in the world of happiness, far removed from here. Whoever does not remove our evil, let him be removed; let the evil follow another path, let it fall upon another. May the thousand-eyed immortal cast it elsewhere, so that it goes to the one we hate or to the one who hates us, destroying him. Sometimes, the pigeon arrives, sent as a messenger of Nirṛti, impelled by gods or desire. To counter this, worship and expiation are offered, seeking well-being for both 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 the home. May Agni, the priest, accept the offering, and may the winged missile turn away. Let the winged missile not harm; let the bird take its place in the fire-altar, ensuring well-being for cattle and people, and may neither gods nor pigeons injure here. With hymns, the pigeon is driven away, misfortune is enticed away, and the cow is led around in rejoicing. Steps of misfortune are left behind, and the path of strength and nourishment is set forth. Let Agni forgive, let the cow return, for among the gods, fame is won, and none dare assail this one. Homage is offered to him who first reached the descent, seeking many paths, ruling over two-footed and four-footed alike—Yama, Death. May the winged missile fall elsewhere; if the owl speaks, let it be in vain, and if the pigeon marks the fire, let it be fruitless. Whatever messengers of Nirṛti—sent or unsent—have come to the house, let there be no trace left by pigeon or owl. May this fall without enmity, settle here for heroic strength, and follow the path of departure; as in Yama’s house the living are not seen, so here let them not look upon us. The gods prepared barley mixed with honey on the stone of Sarasvatī. Indra, lord of ploughing, mighty with a hundred powers, was present; the generous Maruts were the ploughmen. The wild intoxication that makes a man laugh is sent far away, and the śamī tree with a hundred branches grows forth. The great-leaved, lovely śamī, grown strong with rain, guardian of truth, is invoked to be gracious to the hair, as a mother to her children. A spotted cow steps forth, sits before her mother, and approaches her father, seeking him. He moves within the shining realms, from his breath and vital airs; the great bull proclaims the light. He shines in thirty abodes, and the bird of speech takes its seat, responding to the dawn’s call. Into the inner fire, clarified butter is offered for the destruction of Yātudhānas, the evil beings. Agni is asked to burn away the demons from afar, not to approach the houses, and to protect. May Rudra guard the necks, fiends protect the backs, and let the Yātudhānas hear. Plants, with all their power, have come together with Yama. May Mitra and Varuṇa grant safety, drive away hostile fires, and let not the knower or the foundation discover us; let obstacles go to death, each to its own place. To whom the dust is yoked, the people praise—a new light, the delightful, great glory of Indra. None dare challenge him; the bold are subdued by his might, as in ancient times his fame was unconquered. May Indra, the most powerful lord among people, grant broad wealth, shining like tawny gold. Finally, speech is sent forth to Agni, the bull among the peoples, that he may lead all past their foes, guiding them to safety and prosperity.