I call upon the bounteous cow, the one with gentle hands, who yields her nourishing milk to the gods. Ashvins, let us draw from her the finest offering, carried by Savitṛ—the heated vessel, the essence of sacrifice. The cow, lowing softly, is the mistress of riches; she longs for her calf and approaches in thought. Unyoked, she awaits the Ashvins to milk her, that she may bring forth great fortune. This cow, following her calf who seeks her, lifts her head and cries out. Yearning for the heated vessel, she pours out her milk, measuring her very life with each flow. The one who sprinkles, by whom the cow is surrounded, measures her life until its end. With her thoughts, she has shaped mortal existence; and, like a flash of lightning, she wraps the mortal in her garment. Unveiled, swift, alive, trembling—yet steady amidst homes—the living one moves among the dead, guided by his own law. Here, the immortal is joined with the mortal. I saw the eternal herdsman, never resting, treading paths both near and far. Clad in the same garment, he moves together and apart, spreading himself throughout all worlds. The one who made her does not fully know her; whoever has seen her, let him speak. Surrounded in the mother’s womb, with many offspring, he entered into dissolution. Heaven is my father, the begetter, the navel here; the great earth is my mother, my kin. Between these two outstretched bowls lies the womb, where the father placed the seed in the daughter. I ask: what is the farthest end of the earth? Where is the navel of the world? What is the seed of the vigorous horse? What is the highest heaven of speech? The altar is the earth’s farthest end; the sacrifice is the world’s navel. Soma is the seed of the vigorous horse, and Brahman is the highest heaven of speech. Seven, half-born, uphold the world’s seed, standing in the directions, established by Viṣṇu. With their thoughts, their minds, their wisdom, they encompass all things on every side. Yet I do not truly know what I am; hidden, bound, I wander with my mind. When the first-born of truth came to me, I gained a share of this speech. He departs and returns, seized by his own nature; the immortal and the mortal share a common origin. Forever diverging, forever separating, they recognize one and not the other. The sacred verses are set in the imperishable highest heaven, where all the gods are seated. He who does not know this—what will he do with the verse? But those who know, they gather together here. May the bountiful cow become more bountiful through rich pasture; may we, too, be fortunate. Graze, O uninjurable one, giver of all things; drink pure water as you move. Gaurī measured out the waters; she is one-footed, two-footed, four-footed—then eight-footed, nine-footed, until she became a thousand-syllabled being in the highest heaven. From her, the oceans flow; by her, the four directions live. From her, the imperishable arises; by her, all things are sustained. I saw smoke from afar, as from a fire, the wind blowing it near and far. The heroes milked the spotted cow—these were the first ordinances. Three with braided hair are seen in due season; in the year, one is shorn. One, with his powers, beholds all; another’s form is unseen, though adorned. Speech is measured in four steps; wise Brāhmaṇas know them. Three are hidden; men speak only the fourth. They call him Indra, Mitra, Varuṇa, Agni—he is also the divine, splendid-winged Garutman. The wise speak of the One as many: Agni, Yama, Mātariśvan. The black, the tawny, the splendid-winged, clothed in waters, fly up to the sky. Circling, they leave the seat of truth, and the earth is bright with ghee. There is a wheel with twelve spokes, one wheel, three naves—who can understand this? Upon it are set three hundred and sixty pegs, unmoving though they seem to move. O Sarasvatī, your full breast brings delight and nourishes all that is desirable; bestower of wealth, place your treasures here for our sustenance. With sacrifice, the gods performed sacrifice; these were the first ordinances. The mighty ones attained the heaven where the ancient Sādhyas, the gods, dwell. This water is the same, rising and falling with the days; the earth is quickened by the rain-clouds, the heavens by the fires. I call upon Sarasvant, the divine, splendid-winged, mighty one, most visible among plants, the embryo of the waters, who, approached with rains, brings satisfaction. Now, by what beauty, kinship, or common bond, O Maruts, do you wish to unite? By what thought, from where have you come, you mighty ones, shining and eager for wealth? Whose praises have delighted you? Who, at the sacrifice, has guided the Maruts? Like falcons rushing through the midspace, by what great mind do we rejoice? Indra, from where have you come alone, O mighty one, lord of truth? Why is it so? You ask together with the splendid ones; speak to us, O charioteer, what is yours for us. My praises and thoughts are well-prepared; my strength is aroused, my stone ready. The Maruts command, eager for the hymn; two steeds carry you—may they bring you to us. Therefore, we, yoked with these, shining in our own power, adorn ourselves. With these great ones we approach you, Indra, for you have become our own by your nature. Where was your power, Maruts, when you left me alone in the serpent-slaying? For I am fierce, strong, mighty, unconquered by enemies, unbroken by any weapon. You have done much for us with your yoked ones, your united, bull-like powers. Let us do mighty deeds, O Indra, by wisdom, when we are in your command, O Maruts. You slew Vṛtra, Maruts, with your own power; by your brightness you became mighty. I, the thunderbolt-wielder, made all these paths easy for Manu, shining for all. None surpass you, O generous one; no other god knows as you do. Neither birth nor rebirth is lost to you; do as you will, ever-growing one. Even with the power of one, I could accomplish my will, if I dared. For I am fierce, knowing the Maruts, and whatever Indra desires among these, I can do. Here, my praise gladdened the Maruts, when men made a worthy hymn for me—for Indra, the strong, the bountiful, for me, the friend; friends with their bodies and selves. These here shine before me, bearing undiminished fame. The Maruts, bright in form, will assemble; may you now cover and protect me. Who among you, Maruts, will be my helper here? Come forth, friends, as friends to a friend. Let your wondrous thoughts flow; be among those who know the truths.