Let us offer our praise and sacrifices to the Maruts, those bold and mighty deities who, through the ages, have protected mortals from harm. They are noble and generous, their strength unassailable and their worthiness beyond question; to these Maruts in heaven, let the offerings be made. Adorned with golden ornaments, the Maruts are lofty warriors who, in the heat of battle, unleash their spears with dazzling might. Lightning flashes follow in their wake, and their roaring is as powerful as the cries of women in labor. As they move, the sun itself shines in the sky by its own power, bearing witness to their splendor. The Maruts have grown strong upon the earth, and they dwell in the vast midspace, at the gathering of rivers, and in the lofty abode of the great sky. Their troop, praised by all, possesses true strength and vigor; their shining chariots, yoked by their own power, are a wonder to behold. By the Paruṣṇī river, the wool-clad Maruts dwell in purity, and the wheels of their chariots, driven by their force, break through the mountains themselves. The main roads, byroads, inner paths, and side paths—all these are spread wide for the sacrifice in their honor. When the Maruts are praised, their hosts are exalted, and their wondrous forms appear, swift as the wings of birds. At the source of the Kubhā, the Kubhanyas pour forth like dancers; among them are mothers and radiant ones, shining in their glory. Let us honor the Maruts—lofty, sharp-weaponed, wise, and creative—with delightful praise. O sage, approach this generous host as Mitra is generous to a woman; from the sky, the Maruts descend with powerful energy, seeking gifts and praised by noble thoughts. With reverence, let us approach the gods as if entering a welcoming home; generous and mindful, accompanied by noble ones, we come with praises and adornments. These noble Maruts, our kin, are spoken of as children of the cow and of Pṛśni, their mother. The wise also call Rudra, the mighty one, their father. Seven times, seven givers bestowed a hundred gifts each; on the banks of the Yamunā, the renowned, I cleanse the reward of cattle below and the reward of horses above. Who, indeed, knows the birth of the Maruts, or who, in ancient times, was favored by them and harnessed their power? Who has heard the tales of their chariot journeys and knew their destinations? For whom did they flow with offerings and rain—was it for Sudās? It is told that the Maruts have come with shining splendor and joy—noble, youthful, faultless men, worthy of praise. Adorned with axes, garlands, gold ornaments, and spears, they are glorious in their chariots and on the plains. With joy, I have set your chariots, O Maruts, ever-giving, as the rains move in streams across the sky. The generous have poured out the heavenly vessel for the worshipper; they release Parjanya, and the rains spread across the earth and over the plains. The rivers rush swiftly with foam, dust flies like cows in flight, and the horses, released upon the road, advance in their swiftness. Come, O Maruts, from the sky and midspace, with delight—do not remain far from us. Let not the rivers Rasā, Anitabha, Kubhā, Krumu, nor Sindhu hold you back; let not the full Sarayu hinder you. May your favor be with us always. Your host, your chariots—the fierce and ever-renewed troop of the Maruts—are followed by the rains. Host after host, troop after troop, band after band—let us follow you with our thoughts and praises. For whom, O Maruts, well-born and worthy of offerings, have you gone forth today, traveling this path? By this same path, you bring grain and seed undiminished, granting offspring and prosperity. Grant us, too, the reward we seek—prosperity in all things. May we cross over the depths, firm with blessings, leaving behind harm and enemies; with rain and joy, O Maruts, grant us healing, together with you. Truly blessed and heroic is the one whom you protect; may we, too, be such, under your care. Praise the generous Maruts and their dwelling; call your former friends with your voice, as battle-steeds are called to fresh grass, and sing to those who desire your presence. To the troop of the Maruts, self-luminous and radiant in glory, offer this newly born speech, sprung from the mountain. Praise their great manliness, for they perform sacrifices upon the back of the sky. To you, Maruts—strong, ever-young, yoked with horses, swift and stormy—we sing. You bear the lightning and roar together; the waters resound and the swift ones pour down upon the earth. Men of shining brilliance, the Maruts, stormy and mountain-born, have chariots that strike fire. Even as they bring rain, they thunder again and again, wrapped in roaring, pouring forth with mighty force. As Rudras, powerful and mighty, they scatter the coverings and sweep apart the regions of midspace. When you, O Maruts, drive away obstacles as a ship parts the waves, you do not fail in dangers. Your strength and greatness, O Maruts, stretches far, like the course of the sun; in your wanderings, your fires are never seized, even when you traverse the mountains without horses. The Marut troop shines forth, adorned, yet they do not harm the tree, as a skilled one does not break it. With united will, you lead us on a good path, as a guide leads one with sight. He who is favored by the Maruts is not overcome, not slain, does not decay or perish, and does not tremble. Enemies do not approach his wealth, whether he be a sage or a king under your protection. Like men victorious in battle, O Maruts, your bands cannot be deceived; they fill the vessel when the singers have sounded, moistening the earth with the sweetness of soma. Let the earth incline to the Maruts, let the sky incline to those who strive, let the paths of midspace and the ancient mountains incline in your honor. When, O Maruts, full of strength and shining like the rising sun, you rejoice, your horses do not tire as they run; you swiftly reach the end of your path, bringing blessings to all.