In the ancient days, the waters, with joyous hearts, delighted in upholding truth for the gods Savitar and Indra. Their devotion was as profound as that of wives rejoicing in the presence of their beloved husband. Day after day, eager to fulfill their sacred purpose, these waters hastened forth, their earliest act being the very flowing of their streams. The mother of Indra, wise and knowing, spoke to her son, the one destined to unleash the torrent against the demon Vṛtra. She said, “The paths are prepared for you, my child, gladly and faithfully, day by day. The streams themselves surge forth to serve your will.” Then Indra, standing upright in the middle realm, took up his mighty weapon, ready to confront Vṛtra. Cloaked in mist, he advanced upon his foe. With sharp weapons in hand, Indra overcame the enemy, shattering Vṛtra’s might. O Bṛhaspati, with your power, strike down the fierce sons of the demon, as a stone splits open under force. Just as you, with great daring, had once slain the foe, so now, Indra, strike down those who threaten us. Indra, you who delight in Soma, hurl the stone from the heavens, the very stone by which you crush the enemy. In our quest for offspring and abundant cattle, grant us, O Indra, a share of the cows. You raise up the strength you cherish, O Indra, and you urge on the worshipper who is in need. Indra and Soma, together, protect us; in this moment of danger, make a safe place for us. Let me never say, “Do not press Soma,” out of weariness or sloth. May the one who fills me, who gives, who understands, who approaches the Soma-presser with gifts of cows—may he be my friend. Sarasvatī, mighty and accompanied by the Maruts, protect us. You conquer enemies, and even those who resist with force are struck down by Indra, the bull among the strong. Whoever attacks us with hatred or seeks to harm us, strike him down with your weapon. O Bṛhaspati, with your strong arms, conquer our enemies. O king, encircle and contain those who wish us harm. With our own strong men, O hero Indra, grant us the heroic deeds you have done. May we live long, unharmed; having vanquished our foes, bring us their wealth. To you, O Maruts, I offer praise, song, and reverence, to your divine assembly. May we, day after day, obtain wealth, heroic and abundant in offspring, renowned among men. May Mitra and Varuṇa guard our chariot, together with the Ādityas, Rudras, and Vasus. When the eager ones, longing for fame, set out like birds from the nest, may they win the contest. Then, O united gods, you mounted the chariot, victorious among the peoples. Swift as the wind, you traversed the vast spaces, striking the earth’s ridge with your hands. And for Indra, lord of all peoples, the host of heaven and the Maruts, wise in action, follow with unfailing aid, guiding the chariot toward great gain and strength. For him, Tvaṣṭṛ, the world-maker, together with the goddesses, yoked the chariot. Iḷā, Bhaga, Bṛhaddiva, the two worlds, Pūṣan the provider, and the Aśvins, lords of wealth, all attended. Uṣas and Naktā, the two gracious goddesses, alike in form, sustain all that moves. As I praise you, O Earth, with a new hymn, may our generations be established in threefold order. For you, as for the priests, I proclaim praise: Ahibudhnya, Aja Ekapad, Trita, the Ṛbhus, and Savitṛ have set for us, O swift-minded ones, the wise path. The child of the waters, shining with insight, is at peace. These offerings, O worshipful ones, have been prepared by the skilled for the new rite. Seeking glory and strength, like horses yoked to a chariot, let us strive with our thoughts. O Heaven and Earth, support my speech that seeks the right. By you, life is carried across; for you, this ancient praise is set forth. May you grant us great wealth. Let not the hidden foe, the destroyer of life, harm us, nor any evil come from you. Let your friendship not be withdrawn; with kindly minds, grant us what we seek. With eager mind, bring us fulfillment, as a cow yields nourishing milk. With your steps and your voice, O much-invoked ones, victorious, I urge you to come to all peoples. I call upon Rākā, easy to invoke and well-praised. May she hear us, may the gracious one attend with her presence. May she bind together our work with an unbroken thread and grant us a hero, a hundredfold singer of praise. Those fair gifts of yours, O Rākā, by which you bestow riches on the worshipper, with those come to us today, O gracious one, bringing abundant wealth, O fortunate one. Sinīvālī, broad-hipped, sister of the gods, accept the offering poured out. Grant us offspring, O goddess, be gracious to us. She who has beautiful arms and lovely fingers, abundant and bearing many children—to that mistress of the house, Sinīvālī, offer the oblation. She who is Sinīvālī, who is Rākā, who is Sarasvatī—I call upon Indrāṇī for aid and Varuṇānī for well-being. May your favor, O father of the Maruts, come to you; may you keep us from the harm of the sun’s glare. May your hero protect us in battle; may we beget children, O Rudra, with our progeny. From you, O Rudra, with your most healing remedies, may I live a hundred winters. Drive away hatred, misfortune, and sickness; ward off all evil influences from us. You are the best-born, O Rudra, in splendor; most powerful of the powerful, strong-armed one. Deliver us from the utmost sin, grant us well-being, and drive away fear and harm. May we not anger you, O Rudra, with our homage; may we not offend you, O bull, with our praise or invocation. Grant us your remedies, O hero, for you are the best among healers. He who invokes Rudra with offerings and hymns, with oblations and praises—may Rudra, broad-bellied, easily-invoked, brown, beautiful-cheeked, grant us his favor. The bull, accompanied by the Maruts, delights us; with ever-growing strength, he does not abandon us. Like the sun’s shadow, may I always seek Rudra’s grace. Where is your healing hand, Rudra, the one that brings remedies and water? Remove your divine wrath, O bull; may you look upon me with favor. To the brown, mighty, radiant one, I send forth great praise. We honor, with reverence, the remover of stains; with worship, we praise the fierce name of Rudra. With firm limbs, manifold forms, fierce, brown, adorned with shining golden ornaments, he is the lord of the world and its abundance; none can surpass Rudra’s sovereignty. Worthy are you, bearing arrows and a bow; worthy, you wear a golden ornament, revered and of all forms. Worthy, you grant all blessings; none is stronger than you, Rudra. Praise the renowned, youthful, cave-dwelling one, fierce as a wild beast, formidable and mighty. Be gracious to your worshippers, Rudra; let your hosts turn elsewhere, not toward us. Even the child bows to his father as Rudra approaches. You are the giver of abundance, the true lord; praised, you grant remedies to us. Those pure remedies of yours, O Maruts, those most auspicious and joyful, those chosen by Manu and our father—those blessings and joys of Rudra I desire. May Rudra’s weapon pass us by; may the great wrath of the fierce one avoid us. Protect the generous ones; be gracious to our children and descendants. Thus, in the presence of the gods, the people offered their praise and called upon the divine powers for protection, abundance, and well-being, seeking always the blessings of those who uphold the world and defend the righteous.