Let the powerful and generous ones look upon the world with favor, and let the nourishing juices of the waters unite with the plants. May the showers of rain fall and make the earth abundant, so that plants of every form and kind may spring forth. O singer, cast your gracious gaze upon the heavens; let the swift-moving currents of the waters rise and flow in their separate ways. Again, let the showers of rain fill the earth and bring forth the many herbs and plants. Let the hosts of the Maruts, the storm deities, resound with their thunderous songs, each in their own manner, and let the streams of rain pour down upon the waiting earth. Maruts, raise the waters from the depths of the ocean, and let the mighty sun ascend into the sky. Let the waters, driven by the bellowing of the great bull, come forth to satisfy the earth’s thirst. Thunder, cry out and shake both ocean and earth; let the rain you create come in abundance, falling in due season for both the lean and the stout. May the generous ones, as well as the wells and deep pools, protect all beings; let the clouds, driven by the Maruts, rain upon the earth. Let hope shine forth; let the winds blow from every direction, and let the clouds, guided by the Maruts, unite above the earth. May the waters, the lightning, the clouds, and the rain protect you all; may the generous ones, the wells, and the deep pools shield you. Let the clouds, driven by the Maruts, fill the earth. Agni, united with the waters and lord of the plants, may Jātavedas grant us rain, breath, and immortality for our offspring from the sky. Prajāpati, stirring the waters from the ocean, causes the sea to move; let the seed of the mighty stallion swell forth, and may the thunderer bring rain with this power. The Asura, our father, pours down the waters; let the deep pools breathe, and let Varuṇa and the waters release their streams, so that the croaking frogs may speak out on the dry land. For a year, the Brahmins, observing their vows, have remained silent; now, as the rain enlivens the world, the frogs begin to speak again. “Speak up, O frog! Call for rain, O Tādurī! Swim in the middle of the pond, spreading out your four legs.” Khaṇvakhā, Khaimakhā, and you in the middle, O Tādurī, call for rain, O fathers, and desire the favor of the Maruts. Pour out the great vessel; let the wind blow accompanied by lightning. Let offerings be made in many ways, and let the herbs rejoice, refreshed by water. He who is the great overseer sees all, as if from nearby. No one is hidden from him, whether moving or still; all the gods know the one who thinks himself concealed. Whether one stands, moves, deceives, goes to his dwelling, or travels abroad, even when two sit together and plot, King Varuṇa, the third, knows it all. This earth belongs to King Varuṇa, and so does the vast sky far beyond; the oceans are his wombs, and even one hidden in a small pool is within him. Even one who crosses beyond the sky cannot escape King Varuṇa; his thousand-eyed spies move about, seeing all that happens on earth. King Varuṇa sees all that is between heaven and earth and beyond; he counts the blinking of people as a gambler counts his dice. “O Varuṇa, those nooses of yours, seven by seven, set in threefold ways, fiercely arrayed—let them all cut off the one who speaks falsehood; but let the one who speaks truth go free.” With a hundred nooses, O Varuṇa, bind the liar and wrongdoer; let not the wicked escape you. Let the wretch remain, his belly collapsed, like a bag cut open and emptied. Whoever is among us, O Varuṇa, or among others; whoever is to be sent or to be kept away; whoever is divine or human— with all those nooses I will bind them: this one, that one, and that one’s son. All of them I now assign to you. We take hold of you, ruler of remedies, for deliverance. O sacred herb, with a thousandfold power, I apply you for all healing. Victorious by truth, bearing oaths, enduring and returning again—may all the assembled herbs call out and carry us across to safety. She who cursed with a curse, who brought harm and madness, who was born to steal the sap—let her eat her own offspring. The witchcraft they made in raw vessels, in blue and red, or in raw flesh—let that same witchcraft return upon the doer and destroy them. Evil dreams, misfortune, demons, ruin, all ill-named and evil words—these we drive away from us. Hunger, thirst, childlessness, lack of cattle—O Apāmārga, with you we wipe away all this. Thirst, hunger, defeat at dice—O Apāmārga, with you we wipe away all this. O Apāmārga, you alone are sovereign over all herbs; with you I wipe away what has settled, and you move about as a remedy. I make the light equal with the sun by day, and the night equally complete; I make truth for protection—let the juices be effective. Whoever, having performed witchcraft, enters the house of the ignorant—let him, like a calf to its mother, return back again. He who, having made evil his home, seeks to harm another—when that is burned, many stones crackle loudly. With a thousand powers, with arrows, with a shadow without a neck, you have made witchcraft; take away the beloved from the beloved. With this herb I drive away all witchcraft, whether made in the field, among cattle, or among people. Whoever did it but could not complete it, who cut the foot or toe—he has done good for us and for himself, but let him be scorched by the sun. Let the apāmārga plant wipe away what is of the field and any curse; drive away the sorceresses, drive away all hostile ones. Having wiped away the sorceresses and driven away all hostile ones, with you, Apāmārga, we wipe away all that.