There are those who call themselves friends, yet do not wish for true friendship; their forms and hearts shift away. But the sons of greatness, the heroic Asuras who uphold the sky, are renowned throughout the vast expanse. Even the immortals long for you, for the single, visible, mortal being—yet, youthful one, do not set your mind on us, nor desire to seize our mortal bodies. Let us not repeat old deeds; let us now speak only truth, shunning falsehood. The Gandharva dwells in the waters, the maiden too; may this be our highest bond, our true kinship. In the womb, our begetter is the divine pair—husband and wife—fashioned by Tvaṣṭṛ and Savitṛ of many forms. None can break his laws; both earth and sky know the vessel he has made. Who today yokes the cows to the yoke of truth, strong, shining, and long-lived? They are close at heart, bringing joy; one who serves them truly, lives. But who knows the first day of this being? Who has seen it, or can declare it here? The vast domain of Mitra and Varuṇa is beyond telling—how can one speak of the origin of men? Yama’s sister, Yamī, once longed for union with him, yearning to come together in the same womb, to lie as husband and wife. But Yama, like a wheel breaking from a chariot on the road, broke away from her. There are those here who neither stand nor sit, the ever-moving spies of the gods. Go, Yamī, with another who delights you; break apart from your brother, as a wheel parts from the road. May night and day grant us their favor; may the sun’s eye measure us again and again. By day and night, earth and sky are joined in kinship—yet Yamī was separated from Yama. Go forth to later generations, where wives bear children; seek the arm of a strong husband, O fortunate one, as you desire. What is a brother if he becomes helpless? What is a sister if misfortune befalls her? If I have sinned in this, let me bear it; protect my body with your own. But I am not your protector here, Yamī, nor have I joined my body with yours. Seek delight with another, not with your brother, O blessed one—he does not wish for this. Nor would I join my body with yours; people call it evil if a sister approaches her brother. This thought, this feeling, is not mine—that a brother should lie with his sister. Alas, Yama, I have not found your mind or your heart; another companion, yoked to you at birth, has embraced you as a vine embraces a tree. Some other woman, O Yamī, will embrace you at the union, as a creeper wraps around a tree. Let your mind desire her, and let her mind desire you; may harmony be established between you both. The poets composed three meters, perceiving the many forms and the all-seeing one. Waters, winds, and plants—all are established in a single world. The bull, by his effort, has milked the heavenly waters for the mighty one, the powerful son of Aditi who cannot be overcome. Varuṇa knows all by his wisdom and honors the worthy seasons as is fitting. Let the Gandharvi and the woman together protect our minds with the river’s song. In the midst of what is desired, may Aditi establish us; our eldest brother speaks forth first. She, radiant and full of glory, awakens for Manu, bearing the dawn’s light. When the awakened follow the awakened, they generate Agni, the priest, for the ritual. Then that splendid, perceptive drop—the powerful eagle—shines forth in the sacrifice. When noble people choose Agni as their priest, wisdom is born. Agni is always joyful, nourished like ripening barley by offerings; he is the self-sacrificing priest of men. When the inspired one recites the hymn, Agni brings abundant rewards and many gifts. Awaken, O Fathers, for the husband approaches, seeking fortune and the heart of the lovely one. The fire observes and distinguishes the ritual; the powerful one stirs, and the spirit trembles with thought. Whoever among mortals has declared your favor, O Agni, son of strength, is heard even beyond this world. Bearing and granting nourishment, adorned with horses, Agni protects the shining days. Hear us, O Agni, in our homes and in our sacred seats; harness the swift chariot of immortality. Bring us the two worlds, daughters of the gods; let us not be far from the gods here. Whenever this assembly gathers, O Agni, divine among the gods and worthy of worship, whatever treasures you distribute, grant us a rich share. Agni followed all the Dawns together, the first, the knower of births, following the days and the rays of the Sun, entering heaven and earth. He revealed all the Dawns, spreading the Sun’s rays and extending heaven and earth. Heaven and earth, in the beginning, became renowned by truth, speaking truth. When the god makes mortals worship, he sits as priest, facing them, bringing breath. The god who surpasses the gods by truth brings our offering, the wise and foremost one. The smoke-bannered, blazing, radiant, gentle, eternal priest—Agni—is most worthy in speech. I praise you both, O waters, ghee-smeared, to increase; heaven and earth, listen, O two worlds. When the gods sought the path of life by day, may our fathers refresh us here with honey. The immortal one of the gods, born of the cow, is sustained on earth; all the gods follow his sacrificial utterance when he milks the heavenly ghee. What king has taken us? When will he come? What vow have we made, who knows? Even Mitra, sacrificing, calls the gods; the hymn itself does not depart, for there is strength. Let the evil-minded one be far from the name of immortality, adorned with marks and changing forms. O Agni, whoever thinks kindly of Yama, protect him swiftly, not letting him go astray. In whom the gods rejoice at the assembly, they are established in the seat of Vivasvat; they placed light in the sun and set the shining rays in motion around him. In whom the gods move in thought, yet we do not know his lower nature. May Mitra, Aryaman, Savitar, and Varuṇa speak for us, the blameless. O friends, let us seek prayers for Indra, the wielder of the thunderbolt; let us praise the most heroic and mighty one. By your might, O slayer of Vritra, you are renowned; with generous gifts, you surpass all who worship you. Like a plough that never tires as it moves over the earth, may the great winds blow for us. May Mitra, Varuṇa, and Agni, yoked together, not send their burning heat upon the forest. Praise the renowned one, the deep-seated king of peoples, formidable and mighty smiter. O Rudra, being praised, be gracious to the worshipper; let your army strike down others, not us. The worshippers call upon Sarasvati at the sacrifice, in their striving; those who do good call upon Sarasvati. May Sarasvati grant the worshipper the boon he desires.