May the nourishing earth, ever generous, grant us abundance. With reverent hearts, we turn our songs to Varuṇa, the most peaceful of gods, and seek the blessings of Mitra, Bhaga, and Aditi. We call upon the fivefold priest, born of the spotted mare, to hear our prayers, and we ask that the mighty Asura, the bringer of joy, guide us safely along the right path. Let Aditi, compassionate as a mother to her beloved child, accept our hymn. To Mitra and Varuṇa, the joyful ones, we offer the sacred word, so dear to the gods. Among the wise, let the most skilled be lifted up and praised with honey and ghee. May the god Savitṛ grant us the shining wealth we desire, wealth that is both well-placed and beneficial. Indra, lead us with your guiding mind, with cows, with swift and golden ones, and with well-being. Unite us through the sacred word, with what is pleasing to the gods, and with the favor of all worshipful deities. May Bhaga, Savitṛ the bringer of wealth, Indra the conqueror of Vṛtra, the Ṛbhus, the prize, Puraṃdhī, and all the immortal and mighty ones protect us. We proclaim the deeds of the Maruts—the unconquered, the victorious, ever-young. None before, nor any to come, nor any new, can match your strength, O generous ones. First, let us praise Bṛhaspati, the giver of treasures, bestower of wealth, invoked and honored by many, most auspicious and ever responsive. With your help, O Bṛhaspati, may generous and heroic souls remain unharmed. Among those who give horses, cows, or garments—those fortunate ones—there is wealth. But let the one who is without protection, who seeks wealth among those who do not repay with hymns, depart. Drive away those who rebel and hate the sacred word; O Sun, take them away. Whoever attacks the gods with evil, O Maruts, drive him away with your deeds. Whoever insults your peace for petty desires, let him be cast down. Praise him who is strong, skilled with the bow, ruler of all healing—worship Rudra the great with offerings and reverence, honoring the divine Asura for our well-being. May the obedient, skillful, and powerful rivers—the wives of the mighty—grant us a clear path. May Sarasvati, the great and shining Raka, and all gracious and splendid waters, shaped by the wise, be favorable to us. A new hymn is born for the great ones, a prayer for good shelter and a freshly woven song. He who shapes forms in the hearts of the daughters has fashioned this for us, measuring out all forms. Now, singer, raise your voice in praise for the roaring, thundering Lord of nourishment, who stirs the waters and sends forth rain, making heaven and earth swell with lightning. This praise is for the troop of Maruts, youthful sons of Rudra, worthy of our song. Desiring wealth, we call them for our well-being and praise the tireless, spotted-horsed ones. May this praise reach earth, the midspace, the trees, and the plants, so that we may obtain wealth. May the easily-invoked god be gracious to me, and may Mother Earth never bring us misfortune. O gods, may we dwell in your wide, unhindered space. With the new favor of the Ashvins, may we come with joy and good guidance. Bring us wealth and heroes, and all immortal blessings. Let the swift-flowing, nourishing cows come to us, bearing sweet milk; the seven great and bountiful ones, invoked by the singer, approach with abundance and joy. With praise and reverence, we turn to Heaven and Earth, steadfast and strong, the sweet-spoken, skillful-handed father and mother. May they grant us glory in every offering. Priests, having prepared the sweet offerings, bring the bright and lovely Soma to Vayu. Like the first Hotar, protect us from harm, O god, and may we delight in your honeyed draught. Ten fingers harness their arms to the stone, the skillful ones who press Soma; the bright-fingered one, dwelling on the mountain, has drawn forth the pure, shining juice. This Soma is pressed for you, Indra, who delights in it—for strength, skill, and great exhilaration. Let your two bay steeds, well-yoked to your chariot, draw near; make yourself dear when invoked. Bring to us, O Agni, the great, generous, and wise goddess, gracious and worthy of offerings, together with the divine wives, for joy in the sweet draught, by the paths of the gods. He whom the inspired ones anoint and magnify, adorned and kindled by Agni like a father with his dear son—the hot drink—has sat down, kindling Agni, the immortal. Let the great and auspicious hymn, like a messenger, go to the Ashvins for invocation; come together with joy and bring the treasure, as the navel supports the axle. I proclaim the praise of the swift, mighty Pusan and Vayu—those who inspire gifts and thoughts, who bestow wealth, strength, and self-power. With your names, O Maruts, may the summoner call all of you in your many forms, O Jatavedas; come to the sacrifice, to the singer’s good praise, all of you Maruts, with every help. From the great heaven and lofty mountain, may Sarasvati, worthy of worship, come to the sacrifice; let the goddess, accepting the offering and clothed in ghee, hear our strong, uplifting speech. Bring the wise, dark-backed, mighty Brihaspati to his dwelling; seat him in his proper place, radiant, golden-hued, fiery, and revered. He, Dharṇasi, resounding through the vast heavens, comes with all the gods, invoked by hymns; clothed in light, nourishing the plants, unfailing, the bull with three-peaked horns, giver of life. At the mother’s threshold, in the highest shining realm, the radiant ones, rich in gifts, arrive; worthy of worship, they are honored with reverence, as young ones are cleansed by their mothers in the home. Great in strength, O Agni, for you the wise unite in thought, paired together. May the god, the godly, be gracious to me; let not Mother Earth place us in misfortune. May we dwell unhindered, O gods, in your vastness. With the new favor of the Ashvins, bring us joy and guidance; carry to us wealth and heroes, and all immortal blessings. That ancient, foremost, all-encompassing, eldest, seat-dwelling, light-knowing one—the approachable, the provider, the victorious—whom you nurture with song, grows among you. For splendor, the beautiful ones of the upper realm shine, illuminating the heavens; you are a good guardian, unharmed and wise, supreme in wonders, and truth is your name. The offering seeks the swift, the true, the one who moves without harm—the priest, the strong bearer; flowing along the altar, the youthful bull, the child in the midst, ever young, is set free and established. These well-yoked ones set forth on their journey, the righteous and humble, for him, the truthful, grown in order; with good guides, all-knowing, with strong helpers, the clever one proclaims names at the place of praise.