Purified and filtered, the waters flow freely, descending from the clouds and journeying to heaven and to the worlds of earth. These living, life-giving waters, established and poured into the sacred vessel, surround the fire that is kindled all around. From heaven, they come; they join the earth and mingle with the atmosphere above. Pure and shining, they are invoked to lead us toward the heavenly realms. These waters possess power, measure, brightness, purity, and immortality. Guided by the two masters of the household, they cook the food, skillfully and well-directed. Counted drops join the earth, measured by breath and by plants; uncounted, golden streams pour forth, pervading all and remaining pure in their essence. Heated, the waters rise and shine, casting up foam and countless droplets. Like a bride meeting her husband, the grains become united with these waters. Those who are sitting are raised up, encouraged to touch themselves with water, for the vessels contain water, measured grains, and the directions themselves. The axe is handed over, and with urgency, the cutting is done carefully, so as not to harm the plants whose dominion Soma has encircled. Other shoots are left for us. New sacred grass is spread for the offering—pleasing to heart and eye. Upon it, may the gods and goddesses enter, seated with the seasons, to partake of the food. O Lord of the Forest, sit upon the spread grass, measured by Agni’s offerings, alongside the deities. Like Tvashtar, the divine artisan, come in well-made form; let us behold you around the vessel. The guardians of the treasure, armed with sixty arrows, are to eat the well-cooked food. Both living fathers and sons may guide the one who is journeying to Agni’s heavenly world. Support and hold firm the earth’s foundation, so the gods do not shake you from your place. You, led out from the fire’s enclosure by the living couple and their living sons, have conquered all worlds and surpassed all desires. Go forth, O ladle and spoon, and lift him up together in one vessel. Spread the vessel before us, make it wide, anoint it with ghee, and let it be filled. Like a cow calling her calf to her breast, let the gods summon the young one. Let the maker of the bed expand this wide world, let the heavenly realm grow without equal, and upon it may the buffalo, the great-winged one, rest. O gods, offer him to the deities. Whatever the wife cooks, or the husband, or another for you, let both release it together, accomplishing the act as one, so together they may attain the same world. All those belonging to this earth—sons and those who have arisen around us—are called to the vessel. Knowing the navel, the children gather together. Streams of wealth, rich with honey and ghee, the navels of immortality, are enclosed by the heavenly realm, guarded by the treasure-keepers with sixty arrows. Let these guardians cover the deposit, while those powerless remain around it. Placed and set down by us, the heavenly realm ascends with three bundles, reaching three heavens. Let Agni burn away the demon as is fitting; let the flesh-eater and ghoul not approach. We drive them away, shutting them out, and ask the Adityas to let the Angirases join with him. To the Adityas and Angirases, this honeyed, ghee-mixed offering is presented. With pure hands, the Brahmin, unharmed, enjoys this heavenly, well-made portion. Having attained the highest bundle, the supreme one from that world is reached. Pour out clarified butter, anoint with ghee; this is the Angirases’ share among us. For truth and ascetic heat, to the deities, this treasure and good deposit is dedicated. Let it not be lost in gambling or conflict, nor ever cast away by us. I cook, I give; the deed is mine. The wife is born for compassion. The youthful world is born—the son—whom both parents support as they advance in age. Here, there is no sin, no lack; nothing is measured with friends. The vessel placed is not deficient; what is cooked does not return again to the cook. Let us make the beloved for the beloved; let those who hate depart as they wish. The cow, freed from rope, with her calf, may she drive away death from this manly one. The fires know one another—one tending the plants, one tending the rivers. As many gods as shine in the sky—gold and light—have become cooked. This has become the skin of men, of all animals, and others, unburnt. With kingship, you should clothe yourself; let this garment be the face of joy. Whatever is said in dice, in conflict, or in falsehood for gain—dwelling together on the same thread—let all impurity be settled there. Endure the rain, go even into the water; you cause the gods’ skin, the smoke, to rise. Spreading everywhere, backed by ghee, you will be; having a good seat, go to this world. Heaven has made the body manifold, as is known, with various colors. Purifying the black, making it bright again, whatever is red is offered to Agni. To each direction, offerings are dedicated: to Agni in the east, to Indra in the south, to Varuna in the west, to Soma in the north, to Vishnu in the fixed direction, and to Brihaspati above. Each lord and guardian, each arrow-bearing one, is invoked to protect and guard us, so that what is allotted for old age does not lead us to decrepitude or death, but is set aside for us, uniting us with ripeness. In the ritual, one should say, “I give,” and thus partake of her. The cow is to be given to the Brahmins who ask, so she becomes fruitful in offspring and children. She is purchased with progeny, and cattle are also given. Whoever does not give the cow of the gods to the seers who ask is cut off from the gods. Her horns are shattered by the mallet, her tail crushed by the block, her houses burned by the firebrand, and her own is given by the blind. The reddish one finds the guardian from her foundation. Thus, it is said that the understanding of the cow is hard to attain.