O noble one, listen as I recount the wondrous journey of the sun and the sacred cycle of water, as revealed in the scriptures. Upon the northern mountain of the mind, the radiant sun, lord of the heavens, moves through a hundred and eighty circles in his course. Each day, as the sun traverses these circles, he follows both outer and inner paths, marking the passage of the northern and southern solstices. In his southern journey, the sun speeds along like a swiftly spinning potter’s wheel, moving rapidly across the sky. Thus, during the southern solstice, the sun swiftly traverses the vast earth, covering twelve muhūrtas in a single day. As he moves, he passes through thirteen and a half constellations during the daylight hours, and through eighteen constellations during the night, each in as many muhūrtas. But when the sun turns to his northern path, his progress slows, just as the center of a potter’s wheel moves gently and steadily. In this lengthy northern course, the sun’s chariot, established by the Adityas and the sages, covers only a small portion of the earth. Yet, the thousand-rayed sun illuminates all, accompanied before, behind, and below by Gandharvas, Apsaras, chiefs of serpents, and Rākṣasas. At twilight, having withdrawn his rays above, the sun enters the supreme Brāhmī assembly, and with the waters left behind by the sages, he faces the night-dwellers. Those who approach him with ill intent are vanquished, and then the sun moves onward with the Brāhmaṇas, traversing eighteen muhūrtas in the latter part of the northern course. In this way, day is formed, and the sun moves slowly; during the night, he passes through twelve and a half constellations, while during the day he traverses eighteen. At the very center, like the hub of a potter’s wheel, the sun’s motion is even more measured. The ancient knowers say that a full day and night comprise thirty muhūrtas, as the sun’s circles revolve between the two extremes. Just as the wheel’s hub remains fixed at the center, Uttānapāda revolves with the planets, chief among them. The sages, masters of astronomy, declare that the sun’s mind moves along with Uttānapāda, and by this, the sun stands established in his course. With his rays and the wind, the sun draws up water from everywhere, and by the grace of Uttānapāda, his constancy is ever maintained. By Viṣṇu’s Uttānapāda, for the sake of the Creator, the sun draws up the waters, which then proceed gradually to the moon. From the moon, the waters descend in turn to the clouds, and the hosts of water-bearers, driven by the wind, release their bounty. Shining with this power, the sun sends forth creation upon the earth. There is no destruction of water, for it is an eternal cycle, ever revolving. For the welfare of all beings, this cycle was established by Śarva: earth, atmosphere, heaven, waters, food, and even immortality itself are sustained by it. Waters are truly the life-breath of the worlds, of all beings and realms; indeed, the entire universe, both moving and unmoving, depends on them. The blessed Lord Śiva is established as the sovereign of the waters; Bhava is proclaimed as their lord. The entire world is of the nature of Bhava—what wonder is there in this? The divinity of Nārāyaṇa, of Hari, is established through the waters. Viṣṇu is the foundation of all worlds, and the waters are his foundation. When all beings, moving and unmoving, are scorched, those that become wheat grains rise upward, driven by the wind; thus, by the action of fire and wind, they become clouds. This union of smoke, fire, and wind is called a cloud, and the cloud, whose lord has a thousand eyes, pours down water. Clouds arising from the smoke of sacrifice always bring blessings to the twice-born; those produced from the smoke of forest fires benefit the forests. Clouds arising from the smoke of corpses, however, bring misfortune, and those born from the smoke of sorcery fires are agents of destruction. In this way, by the nature of the smoke, the benefit or harm to the world is determined; therefore, the smoke from sorcery must be covered, lest a twice-born become the cause of the world’s destruction. O virtuous ones, clouds, the repositories of water, rain for six months to benefit the worlds, by the command of the wind. Thunder here is of three kinds: from wind, from lightning, and from fire—these are the threefold origins of clouds, O best of sages. The clouds are called 'megha' because they do not fall; their wings, which carry wood, are of many kinds and are said to belong to Brahmā. From the union of clarified butter and wood, smoke arises from fire; the second kind arises from the breath of Brahmā. Then, with the wings of the mountains, cut by Indra, the auspicious fire-clouds move to their places. All those clouds born from the breath of Brahmā, from the branches of the wind, and from wings—such as Puṣkara and others—pour down water when the time arrives. Mute, noisy, and impure clouds perform their functions in due order; those with cold winds give scanty rain over a long time. The 'jīvaka' clouds, weak and without thunder, remain at a krośa’s distance from the earth’s surface. Mountain-dwelling clouds are at half a krośa, while the abundant rain-giving clouds are a yojana away, owing to their excellence. O twice-born, from the earth’s surface, clouds endowed with lightning are found, and their rains are of three kinds. All the clouds born from wings and from the Kalpa trees are the greatest among the mountains; at the end of the Kalpa, they rain at night for the destruction of the autumnal season. Thus is the cycle of the sun, the movement of the heavens, and the sacred journey of water, as established by the gods and sages for the welfare of all beings.