In the radiant dawn, the sages gathered, their hearts brimming with devotion and yearning. They lifted their voices, wondering aloud, “Which of the worthy gods will hear us today? Who among the immortals will accept our heartfelt hymn, so beautiful and easy to invoke?” They sought the one who would show them favor, who would come most willingly among the gods, the most gracious of all. Their minds turned to the swift chariot, drawn by fast horses, the very chariot chosen by Sūryā, the radiant daughter of the Sun. As the invocation rose, they envisioned the divine pair, the Aśvins, descending swiftly, eager as warriors in battle, their power reminiscent of mighty Indra himself. Born of heaven, adorned with beautiful wings, the Aśvins were the most powerful among the mighty, their skill unmatched. The sages wondered at the protection the Aśvins brought—by what wondrous deeds did these mighty ones answer the call of those who invoked them, granting wide and sweet assistance? The Aśvins’ chariot traversed the vast sky, emerging from the ocean’s embrace. Sweetness, honey, and mead flowed for them, and their well-fed horses pulled the chariot with untiring vigor. Rivers themselves bathed the divine steeds, their bright, reddish coats gleaming as they circled. The unfailing chariot proceeded, the very vehicle by which the Aśvins became lords of Sūryā. Whenever their favor was sought, the Aśvins’ goodwill abounded, rich in prizes and blessings. The singer, filled with longing, pleaded for their wide protection, knowing that his desire belonged to them alone. The sages called forth the Aśvins’ chariot, broad-seated and splendid, likening it to a gathering of cows, abundant and generous. This chariot carried Sūryā, the radiant bride, and the singer, both bestowers of gifts. The divine Aśvins, grandsons of heaven, won glory through their powers. Their forms, their horses, and their chariot were joined in perfect harmony, yoked together for the journey. “Who today,” the sages wondered, “will prepare for you, O Aśvins, the well-invoked offering? Who will bring forth the sweet drink with prayers, honoring the ancient truth?” With reverence, they invited the Aśvins, the Nāsatyas, to the sacrifice, urging them to come with their golden chariot, to drink the honeyed Soma, and bestow treasures upon the worshippers. “Come to us from heaven, from earth, with your golden, well-fitted chariot,” the sages implored. “Let none detain you, for your ancient origin unites you.” The Aśvins were asked to grant abundant wealth, many heroes, and blessings in both their aspects, as the singers poured forth their hymns and praise. Here, in this very place, the sages prayed that the Aśvins’ good favor, rich in prizes, would come to them, making wide room for the singer, whose desire belonged to the divine pair alone. As the dawn broke, the radiance of the gods rose, and the Aśvins’ chariot was yoked, encircling the summit of the sky. Three swift steeds were yoked together, and a fourth, honey-golden, ran apart. At dawn, the honey-laden steeds of the Aśvins rose, spreading shining light and driving away darkness. On honeyed paths, their chariot quickened the journey, carrying the most precious, honey-laden gift. Their honeyed swans, unwearied and golden-winged, awakened with the dawn, eager to come to the offerings, like bees drawn to honey. The fires blazed, well-ordered and honey-laden, as the wise one pressed the Soma with swift hands. Those who drank together by day, moving swiftly, spread radiance across the sky. Even the Sun, yoking his own horses, followed their shining paths, for the Aśvins knew all the ways. The sages proclaimed the wisdom of the Aśvins, the ageless chariot and its horses, by which they traversed the realms, always arriving swiftly to the generous and offering lord. Then the call turned to Vayu, the swift god of the wind. “Drink first the sweetest juices, O Vayu, pressed in the heavenly dwellings, for you are always the first to drink.” With a hundred aids and your team, O charioteer of Indra, be pleased with the Soma pressed for you. A thousand steeds, O Indra and Vayu, are yoked to bring you for this sacred drink. Your chariot, adorned with gold, O Indra and Vayu, well-yoked and mighty, touches the sky as it comes. With your broad-powered chariot, come to the worshipper, Indra and Vayu—this Soma is pressed for you; drink it here, together with the gods, in the house of the worshipper. Here is your place, your release, your sacred seat for drinking Soma. Again, the sages called Vayu, approaching his bright, foremost honey in the dwellings of heaven. “Come for the Soma, splendid god, with your team.” Indra and Vayu, worthy of this drink, are called, for the drops of Soma rush to them as waters flow to a single place. Mighty and powerful, with your chariot and attendants, come for the Soma, O Vayu and Indra. Bring all your eager attendants, O noble ones, to carry the sacrifice. Having prepared the offerings and protected the rites, like generous lords, the sages called Vayu to come with his shining chariot for the pressed Soma. Let him come, driving away curses, with his attendants and Indra as charioteer. Across the fertile, beautiful earth, let Vayu ride, drawn by ninety-nine horses yoked by thought, or even a hundred steeds of nourishment, or a thousand-horsed chariot, swift as the wind. For Indra and Brihaspati, too, the offering was prepared. “This is for you, beloved Indra and Brihaspati, celebrated with praise and joy. The Soma is poured out for your delight and drinking. Come to our house, O drinkers of Soma, for the sacred drink awaits you.” Thus, in the sacred dawn, the sages’ voices rose in reverent song, inviting the gods—Aśvins, Vayu, Indra, and Brihaspati—to their sacrifice, seeking favor, blessings, and the sweet presence of the divine.