There are some among men who have turned away from the gods, living always in sin. Agni, the sacred fire, pursues these flesh-eaters relentlessly, as a horse chases those who scatter reeds. These faithless ones, greedy for wealth and gathering together to consume flesh, do not fill their own vessels, but always fill the vessels of others. The mind, though it may seem to fall, returns again and again to its path. The wise, who know the nature of these flesh-eaters, keep them far from the sacred fire. For each has their share: the black ewe belongs to the beasts, lead is the portion of the flesh-eater, and the moon is said to be theirs as well. But your share is ground beans—offer this as your oblation and unite yourself with the forest. Once, Indra, having worshipped with a bundle of reeds, sesame husks, a stick, and a reed, made these the kindling. With them, he kindled the Agni of Yama. As the sun sets in the west, the wise one turns upon his path, assigning the breaths of others elsewhere, and with a prayer for long life, releases those who remain. In this world, man stands over man, clothed in skins. Here, call upon your beloved who strives for you. As many as first met at the beginning, may your span of life together endure in the realm of Yama. May your sight, your strength, your radiance, and your vigor be preserved. Agni joins with the body when it is kindled, and as a pair, you are united when the food is cooked. Together you live in this world, together you journey on the path of the gods, together may you meet in Yama’s realm. Purified by purifiers, call upon that union if the seed has arisen between you. O sons of the Waters, come together, surround this living one, you who give life. Gather and share the immortal food, which your mother is said to cook for you. That food which your father and mother cook for you, for deliverance from enemies and from the stains of speech, is heavenly, with a hundred streams, spanning the great spaces of the sky. Both the heavens and the worlds, those realms conquered by the sacrificers, are radiant and honeyed. In these, may you take refuge with your children in old age. Seize the eastern direction, ever advancing; those who are faithful attain this world. Whatever is cooked and served for you in the fire, as a couple, take refuge there for protection. Turn to the southern direction, circle around, and approach this vessel. There, Yama, together with the Fathers, grants you abundant shelter for the cooked food. Go toward the western direction, the best of all, where Soma is lord and brings favor. In that realm, take refuge, join with the virtuous, and as a pair, become united when the food is cooked. The northern realm is supreme in offspring; let the northern direction be your beginning. The Pankti meter became a man, together with all beings; may we unite with all the limbs of all. May Virāj be steadfast and honored, auspicious for children and for me. O divine Aditi, chooser of all, protect the cooked food as a herdsman guards his cattle. Like a father embracing his sons, unite with us; may gentle winds blow for us here on earth. O goddess, as you cook the food of Yama, may that heat and truth be ours here. Whatever black bird has come here, moving about and finding something stuck in a hole, or whatever slave woman with moist hands has touched, or has cleaned the mortar and pestle—let this stone with a broad base, bringer of life and purified by filters, drive away the demon. Mount the skin, grant great protection; let not the couple incur the misfortune of grandchildren lost. The Lord of the Forest has arrived with the gods, driving away demons and spirits. He rises and speaks words; by him may we conquer all the worlds. The beasts have encircled seven altars, both those who shine and those who drag. Thirty-three deities join with them; may he lead us to the heavenly world. Lead us to the heavenly world, that we may be together with offspring and spouse. I take your hand for happiness here; let not misfortune, destruction, or enmity reach us. We drive away the grasping evil, we dispel the darkness, and you speak forth sweetly. O wooden implement, raised up, do not harm; do not scatter the rice that is being offered to the gods. You who extend through all, whose back is ghee, who are to be born again—go to this world, take up the winnowing basket aged by rain, let it separate the husk from the grain. The three worlds have been measured by the Brahmin: this is heaven, earth, and the atmosphere. Having gathered their rays, may they swell and return again to the winnowing basket. Though you take many forms among the animals, you become one form in fullness. Drive away this red skin; the stone cleanses it as a washer cleanses a garment. I settle you, Earth, upon the Earth; this body is the same, though altered. Whatever is written above by offering, may that not flow away from me; by the Brahman, I remove it. As a mother delights in her son, so I place you, Earth, upon the Earth. O oven, pot, altar—do not tremble, strengthened by the implements of sacrifice and by ghee. May Agni, the cooker, protect you from the front; may Indra, with the Maruts, protect you from the south; may Varuna make you firm in the west; may Soma unite you from the north. Purified by filters, the waters flow; from the cloud they go to heaven and to the worlds of earth. Those living, life-giving, established ones—poured into the vessel—I kindle the fire all around. They come from heaven, they join the earth, and join the atmosphere above the earth. Being pure, they shine; may they lead us to the heavenly world. They are powerful, measured, bright, pure, and immortal. These waters, instructed by the two householders, cook the food, well-guided. Counted drops join the earth, measured by breath and by plants; uncounted, poured out, golden, they pervade all, pure in their purity. They rise up, they shine forth, heated, casting up foam and many drops. Like a bride seeing her husband, with these grains you become united. Raise up those who are sitting, let them touch themselves with water. In these vessels is water, these measured grains, these directions. Hand over the axe, hurry, let us cut without harming the plants whose kingdom Soma has encircled; let other shoots be for us. Spread new sacred grass for the offering, lovely to the heart and pleasing to the eye. On it, may the gods with the goddesses enter and eat, seated with the seasons. O Lord of the Forest, sit upon the spread grass, measured by Agni offerings, with the deities. Like Tvashtar, a well-made form, come here; let us see you around the vessel. The guardians of the treasure, in sixty arrows, should eat the well-cooked food. Upon him, both living fathers and sons, may they lead him who is going to the heavenly world of Agni.