Let the earth and the sky breathe freely, for in many places your power is established, O drum. With Indra and all the gods, may you drive our enemies far away, farther and farther still. Let your sound resound, and let strength and power flow to us; attack and banish misfortunes. Drive away, O drum, the evil ones—Indra’s fist, be strengthened! Let us conquer, let the mighty conquer, as the drum, adorned with banners, resounds. Let men with horses and chariots rush forth for us; O Indra, grant victory to our charioteers. Turning to healing, I address the swelling, red, bloody plant, O tree, and the spreading herb—I remove even the flesh. Those two swellings, O balāsa, that stand in the armpit and are hidden in the groin—I know the remedy for them: the healing cīpudru, the all-seeing. Whatever affliction is in the limb, in the ear, in the eyes, the spreading one—we drive out the swelling, the heart disease, and send away that unknown affliction, the downward-moving yaksma. The stars made Śakadhūma their king. I send forth prosperity to him—may his kingdom be secure. May prosperity be ours at midday, in the evening, in the morning, and at night. From day and night, from the stars, from the sun and moon—may prosperity be ours. O king Śakadhūma, grant this to us. To him who has made prosperity for us at all times, O king of the stars, Śakadhūma, we offer our homage always. With Bhaga, with Śāṃśapena, with Indra, with the earth, I make myself fortunate. Let adversities not approach me. By the power that overcame the trees, with Bhaga and brilliance, make me fortunate; let adversities stay away. O Fortune, who is blind, who returns again, who is set among the trees—by you, make me fortunate; let my enemies be exhausted. The longing that belongs to charioteers, the desire of the Apsarases—O gods, drive away that longing; let it not cause me sorrow. Let my beloved remember me, O gods, drive away that longing; let it not cause me sorrow. As she remembers me, so may I never remember her—O gods, drive away that longing; let it not cause me sorrow. O Maruts, make me rejoice; O midspace, make me rejoice; O Agni, you make me rejoice—let that longing not cause me sorrow. Fall down from the head, fall down from the wealth, I remove you from the body—O gods, drive away that longing; let it not cause me sorrow. O Anumati, be favorable to this act; to the intention, to the offering, homage—O gods, drive away that longing; let it not cause me sorrow. When you run three leagues, five leagues, O Ashvin—then you return again; you are the father of our sons. The one whom the gods sprinkled with longing, burning within the waters, together with distress—him I scorch for you, by the ordinance of Varuṇa. The one whom all the gods sprinkled with longing, burning within the waters, with distress—him I scorch for you, by Varuṇa’s ordinance. The one whom Indrāṇī sprinkled with longing, burning within the waters, with distress—him I scorch for you, by Varuṇa’s ordinance. The one whom Indra and Agni sprinkled with longing, burning within the waters, with distress—him I scorch for you, by Varuṇa’s ordinance. The one whom Mitra and Varuṇa sprinkled with longing, burning within the waters, with distress—him I scorch for you, by Varuṇa’s ordinance. The god who bound this girdle, who fastened it, who joined it for us—by whose command we act—may he, desiring the farther shore, release us. You are invoked, honored by the seers, the weapon of this one; first to taste the vow, slayer of heroes—be so, O girdle. I am a celibate from death, as I go out, asking from the being for Yama; by Brahman, by austerity, by effort, I bring him—by this girdle I bind him. Born from faith, daughter of austerity, sister of the seers, made by beings—you, O girdle, grant us wisdom, intelligence, austerity, and strength. You whom the ancient seers, makers of beings, have worn—do you, O girdle, embrace me for long life. May this thunderbolt bring satisfaction, may it destroy the enemy’s realm and take away his life; let it break his neck and collarbone, as the Lord of Power struck down Vritra. Let the lower be hidden beneath the upper, concealed within the earth; let him lie struck down by the thunderbolt. Seek out the one who overcomes, strike down the one who overcomes; O thunderbolt, bring down the crest of the one who prevails, let him fall behind. Whenever I eat, I gain strength; thus I take up the thunderbolt, shattering his shoulders as the Lord of Power did to Vritra. Whatever I drink, I drink up completely, as the ocean drinks up; draw out his life-breaths, let us drink him up together. Whatever I speak, I speak forth completely, as the ocean speaks forth; having spoken forth his life-breaths, let us speak him forth together. O divine plant, born from the divine on earth, O herb, I dig you up from the hair for firmness. Make firm the ancient ones, produce those already born, and make those born even more vigorous. For the hair of yours that falls out, root and all, or is plucked, with this universal remedy I sprinkle it with herbs. The plant which Jamadagni dug up for his daughter to promote hair growth, that Vītahavya brought from the house of Asita—this is the healing plant. Thus, from the power of the drum and the might of Indra, from the healing of herbs and the wisdom of the stars, from the removal of longing and the strength of the thunderbolt, from the girdle of austerity and the divine plants, the prayers are woven—seeking victory, healing, prosperity, and long life.