You do not die, nor are you harmed; instead, you journey along auspicious paths toward the gods. For you, the bay mares and the dappled steeds are yoked, and at the yoke of the ass, the noble horse stands ready. May this steed bring us abundant cattle, swift horses, sons, and all-nourishing wealth. May Aditi grant us innocence, and may the sacrificial horse, bearing our offerings, win for us sovereignty. When the first cry of life arose at birth—emerging from the sea, from the primordial waters—the greatness of the horse was born, praised for its wings like an eagle and its arms like a deer. This steed was given by Yama, strengthened by Trita, first mounted by Indra. The Gandharva took its reins, the Sun fashioned its form, and the Vasus set it free. O steed, you are Yama and Aditya, you are Trita by secret vow. United with Soma, you stand apart, and it is said you have three bonds in heaven. These three bonds are mirrored in the heavens, the waters, and the ocean’s depths. May Varuṇa grant you favor, O steed, at the place of your highest origin. You undergo nine purifications, O horse; your hooves mark the places of your power. Here, your noble reins are seen, guarded by the keepers of immortality. With my mind, I have come close to your essence; I see you as a bird flying by day, your head moving along good paths, raising dust as you go, a winged one indeed. I have seen your highest form, striving for nourishment at the cow’s foot. When a mortal, following your delight, first gathers the herbs, he seeks you. The chariot follows you, as does the eager youth, the cows, and the lord of maidens. All hosts are drawn to your friendship, and the gods have measured your might. Golden-horned and swift-footed, your feet move with the mind’s speed, and Indra stands below. The gods, desiring the offering, mount you, for you are the first to be harnessed. Your companions are swift, slender-waisted, strong, heroic, and celestial; like swans in a line, they move together when the divine horses set out. Your body is eager to fly, your mind races like the wind; your horns spread far, and you roam vigorously through forests. The noble horse approaches the feeding place, shining with divine radiance in thought; the goat leads at its navel, and the wise follow, singing behind. The horse approaches the highest seat, to its father and mother, and today the path most pleasing to the gods is open; thus, he commands rewards for the worshipper. Now, of the beautiful, grey-haired Hotar, there is a middle brother who eats, and a third brother with a back of ghee. Here I saw the lord of the clan with seven sons. Seven harness the chariot with a single wheel; one horse, called by seven names, draws it. The wheel has three hubs, ageless and unbroken, upon which all worlds stand. Upon this chariot, seven stand; seven wheels and seven horses carry it, and seven sisters join together where the seven names of the cows are placed. Who saw the first being born, the boneless one who bears bones? The soul of the earth, the maker of gods—where is he? Who, knowing, has approached to ask this? I ask, not knowing, where the footprints of the gods are placed; on the calf, on the bull, the wise have spun seven threads, weaving them together. Not knowing, I ask the wise sages for understanding: who established the six spaces, the forms of the unborn—what is the one among them? Let him speak who knows the place of this beautiful one, from whose head the cows draw milk, wearing a covering, and bring water to his feet. The mother shared the nectar with the father, uniting with him in mind at the beginning; pierced by the essence of the embryo, she bowed and went forth to the utterance. The mother was yoked to the right-hand yoke, and the embryo stood within the wombs; the calf measured out, followed the cows, seeing the universal form in three distances. Bearing three mothers and three fathers, the one stood upright, its rims never tiring; they converse on the back of heaven, uttering speech that knows and inspires all. The twelve-spoked wheel revolves, never aging, upon the sky of immortality; there, O Agni, the twin sons stand, seven hundred and twenty. They call the five-footed father, twelve-formed, dwelling in the far half of heaven; others, wise, see the upper, in the seven-wheeled, six-spoked, established. On the five-spoked wheel, revolving, all worlds stand; its axle, heated by heavy weight, does not break, nor do its spokes, since ancient times. With a perpetual rim, the wheel turns; ten yoked carry it upright. The eye of the sun is veiled by space, and in it all worlds are established. They speak of seven sons born together, of whom six are nourished and one is born alone. The sages, children of the gods, declare thus; their domains are set apart by their rites, their forms fashioned and shining in many ways. Though these are truly women, they are called men; one who looks may not see, but the wise son understands these mysteries—he who knows them is truly the father’s father. With one foot before and one behind, the cow, bearing her calf, stands still. Of her own accord, she departs with half of something; who knows where she has gone, for she does not give birth within the herd. Who knows the father of this cow, who was before and who after? Who here, being wise, can declare from where the divine mind was born? Those who are near are said to be far, and those far are said to be near. Indra and Soma made these things; yoked like two horses, they bear the burden of the world. Two birds, united companions, cling to the same tree. One eats the sweet fruit, while the other simply looks on, not eating. Where these birds, partaking of immortality, sing together with unblinking eyes at the gathering, there the wise one, having entered the fire, discerns the essence of all that exists. On the tree where the honey-yielding birds rest and all the gods dwell, its foremost fruit is said to be sweet; but he who does not eat it does not know the father. What is established in the Gāyatrī, they call Gāyatra; from Triṣṭubh comes Triṣṭubha; and what is set in Jagatī, they call Jagatī. Those who know these measures attain immortality. With the Gāyatrī meter, they measure the hymn; with the Sāman, the chant; with Triṣṭubh, the speech. With speech, they measure speech, with two-footed and four-footed meter, they measure the seven voices. The Jagatī upheld the celestial river; in the midst of the chariot, they beheld the Sun. They say there are three kindlings of the Gāyatra; from that greatness, the greatness expanded.