With deep reverence, the sages approach Bhava, the Lord of Beings, bowing to his many aspects. They offer salutations to his mouth and eyes, to his skin and form, to his vision, and to his western face. Their homage extends to his limbs, belly, tongue, mouth, teeth, and even to his fragrance, acknowledging every part of his divine presence. They recognize the formidable power of Rudra, the blue-crested, thousand-eyed, swift one, whose weapon strikes with half-measured force. They pray not to contend with such might, seeking instead Bhava’s protection. Like water or fire that surrounds, may Bhava encompass them on every side and shield them from harm. With humility, they bow again and again—four times, eight times, ten times—to Bhava, the Lord of Beings, honoring his fivefold creation: cows, horses, men, and goats. All directions, heaven, earth, and the fierce midspace belong to Bhava; everything that breathes upon the earth is his domain. The earth itself is his broad vessel, holding all worlds within. The sages beseech him to be gracious, asking that the distant howlers, the loud barkers, the far-going, and the fierce-haired may stay away. They recognize Rudra’s divine weapon: a green bow, golden, striking a thousand, slaying a hundred, crested with power. To this arrow and the direction it is aimed, they bow in awe. Any who approach to harm Rudra or seek to injure him are struck from behind, as if following the trail of a wounded one. Bhava and Rudra, united in knowledge and strength, fierce and moving for power, are honored together, along with the direction of their weapons. The sages offer salutations to Rudra as he advances and withdraws, as he stands and sits, in all his forms. Morning and evening, night and day, they bow to Bhava and Śarva, offering respect at every hour. Rudra, the thousand-eyed, all-seeing, stands before them, wise in countless ways. They pray that their tongues may never offend him. Homage is paid to the dark horse, the black and unyielding, to the terrible chariot and hairy one who tramples, to the ancient and the western aspect. They petition that the divine weapon may not strike them, nor Bhava’s anger fall upon them, asking that his heavenly branch be moved elsewhere. The sages plead for kindness: let Bhava not harm them, but speak gently and surround them with protection. They wish for harmony, not contention. Bhava is asked not to covet them among cattle or men, nor desire them among goats or sheep. Fierce one, turn elsewhere, and destroy only the offspring of those dear to you. To the one whose fever, coughing, and weapon cry out like the neighing of a stallion, and who drives out sickness, they offer homage. They honor him who stands firmly in the midspace, destroying the offerings of the non-sacrificer and drinking for the gods, with ten verses of praise. Wild animals of the forest, beasts in the woods, swans, eagles, birds, and all flying creatures belong to Bhava, the Lord of Beasts. His mysterious power is nourished by the divine waters, pouring forth within the waters for his increase. Dolphins, pythons, armored creatures, fish, and all those struck with dust—none are beyond his reach. Bhava sees the whole earth at once, from the eastern to the western ocean. They implore Rudra not to harm them with fever, poison, or celestial fire. Let his lightning be cast elsewhere, away from them. Bhava is present in heaven, lord of the earth, and fills the vast midspace. Wherever his power is directed, they offer homage. Bhava, as king, is asked to be gracious to the sacrificer, for he has become lord of cattle. To those who have faith and declare the gods exist, may he be gracious to their four-footed and two-footed creatures. The sages pray that Rudra not harm their elders or children, nor those who carry or will carry, nor their father or mother, nor their own bodies. Homage is offered to Rudra’s howling forms, to those who devour unuttered hymns, to the great-mouthed ones, and to the dogs. They salute the noisy ones, the long-haired, those who are honored, and those who feast together. Homage is given to the divine hosts, with prayers for their own well-being and safety. Turning to the sacrificial porridge, the sages describe its sacred structure. Bṛhaspati is its head, Brahman its mouth. Heaven and earth form its ears, the sun and moon its eyes. The seven sages are its breath and exhalation. The pestle is its eye, and desire is the mortar. Diti is the winnowing basket, Aditi the holder, while the wind blows through. Horses are the grains, cows the rice, and mosquitoes the husks. Kabru are the pod-makers, and the arrow is the cloud. Its flesh is black metal, its blood is red. Tin, ash, green color, and the fragrance of the lotus are its essence. The threshing floor, vessel, pestle, pounding stone, and oxen’s place are all part of its making. Intestines, jaws, rectum, and ligaments are included in its form. The earth itself becomes the pot for the rice, and the sky is its covering. Furrows, sides, sand, and boundaries mark its edges. Truth is the hand-washing, and the irrigation channel is the sprinkling. Thus, the sages weave their homage and prayers, honoring every aspect of Bhava, Rudra, and the sacrificial world, seeking grace, protection, and harmony in the vast tapestry of existence.