Salutations to you, O Rudra, who advances and withdraws, who stands and sits. In all your forms and movements, we bow before you. At every hour—morning and evening, day and night—we offer our reverence to you as Bhava and as Śarva, honoring both your aspects. Before us stands Rudra, the thousand-eyed, all-seeing, wise in countless ways; may my words never offend him. We bow to the dark horse, the black and unyielding one, the terrible chariot, the hairy and trampling ancient, and to the western form—homage to all your manifestations. O Lord of Beings, let not your divine weapon strike us, nor your anger fall upon us; may your powerful branch turn elsewhere. Speak kindly to us, surround us with your grace, and let there be no contention between us. Do not covet us among cattle or men, among goats or sheep; fierce one, turn your gaze elsewhere and direct your wrath away from us, even from the offspring of those dear to you. To the one whose fever, coughing, and weapon cry out like the neighing of a stallion—he who drives away these afflictions—we offer our homage. We honor him who stands firm in the midspace, destroying the offerings of those who do not sacrifice, the drinker of the gods’ share, with ten verses of praise. To you belong the wild animals of the forests and woods, the swans, eagles, and all flying creatures. O Lord of Beasts, your mysterious power is poured forth by the divine waters, increasing your might within the waters themselves. Dolphins, pythons, armored creatures, fish—all beings you strike with dust—none can escape you; no place is distant or hidden from your gaze. You see the whole earth at once, from the eastern to the western ocean. O Rudra, do not harm us with fever or poison, nor let us waste away with celestial fire. Cast your lightning elsewhere, away from us. You are Bhava in the heavens, the lord of the earth, and you fill the vast midspace. Wherever your power moves, we offer homage. O Bhava, king, be gracious to those who sacrifice, for you are the lord of cattle. To those who have faith and proclaim, “the gods exist,” grant grace to their four-footed and two-footed creatures. Do not harm our elders or our children, those who carry or will carry, nor our father or mother, nor even our own bodies, O Rudra—do not wrong us. To Rudra’s howling forms, to those who devour unuttered hymns, to the great-mouthed ones, to the dogs, we offer homage. We bow to the noisy ones, the long-haired, those who are saluted, those who feast together, and to the divine hosts—may there be well-being and safety for us all. Now, let us contemplate the sacrificial porridge. Bṛhaspati is its head, and Brahman is its mouth. Heaven and earth serve as its ears, the sun and moon are its eyes, and the seven sages are its breath and exhalation. The pestle is one eye, and desire is the mortar. Diti is the winnowing basket, Aditi holds the basket, and the wind is the blower. Horses are the grains, cows the rice, and mosquitoes the husks. The Kabru are the pod-makers, and the arrow is the cloud. Its flesh is made of black metal, its blood is red. It bears the colors of tin, ash, and green, and carries the fragrance of the lotus. The threshing floor, the vessel, the pestle and pounding stone, even the place for the oxen—these are all part of it. Its intestines, jaws, rectum, and ligaments are present. This very earth is the pot in which the rice is cooked, and the sky forms its covering. The furrows, the sides, the sand, and the boundaries are all included. Truth itself is the hand-washing, and the irrigation channel is the sprinkling. The hymn is placed upon the pot, sent by the officiating priest, embraced by the sacred word and surrounded by the chant. The great Ayavana, the Rathantara, and the ladle are all part of this sacrifice. The seasons are the cooks, and the rites of the seasons kindle the fire. The sacrificial dish, with its five openings, is heated by the Gharma. By the rice, all the worlds belonging to the sacrifice are brought to completion. Within this sacred dish, the ocean, the sky, and the earth—three—are established above and below. For this, the gods prepare eighty-six remnants. I ask you about the rice, whose greatness is vast. Truly, he who knows the greatness of the rice understands the fullness of this sacred mystery.