At the sacred time when the fire is kindled and dawn’s first light breaks the darkness, there is a horse named Dadhikrā, brought forth by divine purpose. May Aditi, the boundless mother, keep him pure and free from sin, joined in harmony with Mitra and Varuṇa, upholders of cosmic order. For Dadhikrā, we call down blessings—may he be nourished and made great, honored among the Maruts. For our well-being, we invoke Varuṇa, Mitra, Agni, and Indra, the thunder-wielder, seeking their favor at the sacrifice. As the ritual commences, both sides raise their voices to Indra, calling him near. Mitra and Varuṇa, in their generosity, have given Dadhikrā, the heroic horse, to mortal men, to be our helper and slayer of foes. I prepare Dadhikrā, the victorious one, with fragrant offerings; may his mouth be sweet, and may he carry us safely across to a long and prosperous life. Now, let us honor Dadhikrā again. May the rising dawns awaken me to his strength. May the sacred waters, Agni’s flame, the dawns, the sun, Brihaspati, Angiras, and the victorious Dadhikrā grant us vigor and endurance. Dadhikrā is strong and swift, striving for cattle and glory, full of energy, producing nourishment and light for all. When he runs, not even a leaf stirs in his wake; he moves with the silent grace of a falcon descending from the sky, circling the course with power and vigor. Eager and impetuous, Dadhikrā strains at his harness, his sides pressed by the girth, his mane tossing, his will set firmly on the path. In the midst of this, the swan dwells in purity, the shining one in the midspace, the priest at the altar, the guest in the house. He sits among men in the best place—in truth, in the heavens—born of water, of cows, of stone, of truth itself. He is the embodiment of truth. Turning to Indra and Varuṇa, we ask: which mortal has won your favor with praise and offerings, like an immortal priest? Whoever, inspired by our hymns, has touched your hearts with devotion, let him be blessed. The man who seeks your friendship with devotion, Indra and Varuṇa, becomes victorious over his enemies and renowned with your aid. Grant to those who praise you, Indra and Varuṇa, the treasures you have granted before, as friends rejoicing together with Soma and good cheer. Place your mighty thunderbolt in our battle, O powerful ones; strike down the evil-minded, the wolfish foe, with your overwhelming strength. Lead our prayers, Indra and Varuṇa, as a bull leads the cows; may our nourishing one yield milk for us in abundance, flowing in a thousand streams. Where sons are cherished, offspring thrive, the sun shines, and strength abounds—there, may your protection be with us in this wide world. To you alone, for ancient and abundant help, for victory in the contest, we turn as children to a loving father. Our thoughts and hymns, seeking your help, have not gone astray; they reach you, O generous ones, as cows come to Soma, as chariots race for fame. By the nature of the horse, the chariot, and the wealth that endures, may we be lords, accompanied always by those who grant these gifts and protections. Come to us, Indra and Varuṇa, with your great protections, that we may win the prize when the hosts exult in battle and your favor is upon us. Let my sovereignty, like that of a ruler, be established over all peoples, as the immortals have done. The gods support the will of Varuṇa—I am king by the highest choice. I am King Varuṇa; to me the first powers of sovereignty have been entrusted. The gods uphold my will; I am king, chosen by the highest. I am Indra, I am Varuṇa; my greatness is vast and deep, and the two realms are well-ordered. Like Tvaṣṭṛ, I know all beings and unite heaven and earth. I made the waters swell and held back those that would flow away; I upheld the sky, the seat of truth. By truth, I am the son of Aditi, a follower of truth, spreading out the threefold world. May men with swift horses, striving for prizes, not summon me to battle; may the chosen not call me to conflict. I, Maghavan, Indra, prepare the offering and send forth dust, overwhelming with might. I have accomplished all these things; none matches my divine, unconquered power. When Somas and hymns delight me, both boundless realms tremble in awe. You know all the worlds, O wise one; declare them to Varuṇa. You have heard of and struck down the Vṛtras, O Indra, and released the rivers for your chosen. Our fathers, the seven seers, were present when the Dāsa was bound in distress. They sacrificed to Indra, the slayer of Vṛtra, for the sake of Trasadasyu. Purukutsa’s wife invoked you, Indra and Varuṇa, with offerings and homage, and you granted Trasadasyu, the king, the strength to slay Vṛtra. With wealth and cattle, may we rejoice, O gods, with offerings and grain. Indra and Varuṇa, may you always grant us that unfailing, ever-yielding cow. Who among the worthy gods will hear and accept our praise? To whom among the immortals shall we dedicate this heartfelt hymn? Who will show us favor and come most willingly, whose chariot is swift and chosen by the daughter of the sun? Swiftly you come, eager for the contest, like Indra in battle. Born of heaven, divine, with beautiful wings—by what skill are you, O mighty ones, the most powerful among the powerful? What is your protection, O Aśvins, by which you come when invoked? Who, by your wondrous deeds, will call you, that you may grant wide help with your sweet aid? Your chariot moves widely across the sky, rising from the ocean; honey and mead flow for you, and your well-fed horses draw it with vigor. The river bathes your horses with its juice; your bright steeds circle around, and your unfailing vehicle proceeds, by which you became the lords of Sūryā. When your favor is sought, this is your good will—rich in prizes. Grant wide protection to the singer, O Aśvins; the desire that clings to me is yours alone. Today we call your chariot, O Aśvins, with broad seats, the gathering of cows. It carries Sūryā, the bride, the singer, most generous and bountiful. You, divine Aśvins, grandsons of heaven, win glory with your powers. Your forms, joined with your horses, are yoked together. Who today will prepare for you, O Aśvins, the well-invoked offering, for aid or the sweet drink with prayers? For the ancient truth, for the first time, let the one who honors you turn to you with reverence.