Gathered in reverence, the people invite the worthy Hotar, ever youthful, to sit among them and receive their hymns. They call upon Agni, the fire, to join with heavenly speech, lending his sacred presence to their prayers. Fathers offer for their sons, seeking protection, and friends honor friendship, each act imbued with worthiness. Upon the sacred grass, they invite Varuṇa, Mitra, and Aryaman—righteous deities—to sit as men do, sharing in the ritual. The community rejoices in the ancient Hotar, in the bonds of friendship, and urges the gods to listen to their songs. Even with unending offspring, each god is worshipped; the offerings are kindled in Agni, who carries them heavenward. They pray that the lord of the people, the delightful and worthy Hotar, may be dear to them, just as they cherish their own Agnis. The gods have granted prizes to those who honor their Agnis, and so the people continue to pay homage. Let there be mutual praise among immortals and mortals alike, they declare. With all the Agnis, with all the gods, they offer sacrifice and speech, asking Agni to grant them strength and glory. Like a horse of splendid strength, they praise Agni with reverence, recognizing him as sovereign among sacrifices. Agni, their powerful and gracious son, is invoked to be generous to them. From both far and near, from mortal harm and evil, they call upon Agni, the universal guardian, to protect them always. Their new song is sent forth, asking Agni to declare it among the gods as their support. They request that Agni distribute prizes in the highest, middle, and lowest realms, and teach them the wealth of the innermost. Agni, radiant divider of river waves, approaches swiftly for the worshipper, flowing with grace. Whomever Agni protects in battle or aids in contests, that person attains perpetual riches. None can withstand his approach, whoever he may be; the prize is for fame. May he, renowned among all peoples, bring the prize with swift horses and wise men. As Agni awakens with age, the people discern his presence in each gathering and offer hymns to Rudra, worthy of sacrifice. May the great, mighty, smoke-bannered, radiant Agni stir their thoughts for the prize. May he, lord of wealth like a river and divine sign, hear their hymns and shine with vast brilliance. Homage is offered to the great and the small, to the young and the old. They worship the gods as best they can, pleading that the gods not take away the praise of those greater. In the place where the stone with broad base stands upright for pressing, the sound of the mortar-born echoes; Indra knows the clattering. Where two parts, as if from the hips, are made for pressing, the sound resounds; Indra knows the clattering. Where the woman learns both pressing and gathering, the sound continues; Indra knows the clattering. Where they bind the churn with cords, as if with measured reins, the sound persists; Indra knows the clattering. Whenever the mortar is harnessed in each house, it speaks with the brightest sound, like a victorious drum. Even the wind stirs the tree-born mortar at its tip; now, the mortar presses the Soma for Indra to drink. Prize-seekers are summoned, high and vigorous, like horses devouring fodder. Today, the trees, with strong, mighty pressers, prepare the honeyed Soma for Indra. The remnants are poured from the cup, the Soma flows through the filter, and it is placed upon the cow’s hide. Though they are true Soma-drinkers, the people feel powerless. They call upon Indra to grant favor among cows, horses, splendid ones, and thousands. Indra, wielder of the whip, lord of prizes, powerful in deeds, is invoked again for favor and abundance. They ask Indra to put hostile ones to sleep, let the sleepers remain unaware, and grant favor among cattle and riches. Let the hostile be defeated, the generous awakened, and Indra, the hero, come with favor. Indra is called upon to strike down the braying ass, the one who brings harm, and to bring favor among cattle, horses, and splendid, thousandfold riches. The wind drives away the dust from the forest, and Indra is asked to come with favor. Every outcry is to be destroyed, the biting horse silenced, and Indra is implored to bring favor and abundant wealth. As those who strive for victory, they pour out Soma for Indra, the mighty, the hundred-powered, the most exalted. He who possesses a hundred pure ones or a thousand well-fed does not sink down, but flows onward like a stream. Thus, through praise, ritual, and offering, the people seek the favor and protection of the gods, honoring Agni and Indra, and celebrating the sacred acts that bind mortals and immortals together.