Hear now the tale woven from these ancient hymns, a song of praise and supplication to the Ashvins, divine twins of swift rescue and healing, and to mighty Indra, lord of strength. To the generous and devout, the call goes forth: may the Ashvins bestow good wisdom and right guidance, pouring forth streams of nourishing milk mingled with ghee, blessings for those who honor them well. The people summon the Ashvins to their hymns—swiftly come, O divine twins, with your falcons and your rapid steeds, drawn by your spirited horses. With these very steeds, you have traversed the three distant, radiant realms of heaven, passing through every region, your presence spanning all the worlds. The supplicants entreat: grant us, O day-bringers, abundant wealth—cattle and prosperity—opening wide the paths for our journeys. Bring us riches: cattle, strong men, splendid chariots, and horses in abundance, O Ashvins. Ever-growing, wondrous lords of beauty, whose golden wheels gleam, partake of the honeyed Soma offered in reverence. To us and to the generous, bestowers of wealth in horses, grant wide protection, you who delight in the songs of praise. Draw near to the prayers of the people; hasten here, do not turn aside to another’s call. Drink, O Ashvins, of this sweet exhilaration, lords of the chariot, partake of the honeyed gift set before you. Bring us wealth a hundredfold, a thousandfold—abundance supporting all people. In many places, wise men call upon you; come, O Ashvins, to those who praise you. The people prepare sacred grass, bear offerings, and adorn themselves, calling upon you with devotion. Today, may our praise, most excellent and intimate, reach you, O wondrous ones; may it be with you, Ashvins. Drink from the vessel of honey placed for you, charioteers among men. With your gifts, bring us nourishment: cattle, offspring, and cows in abundance. May you grant us blessings from heaven and from the flowing rivers, pouring them down upon us as through open doors. When, O Ashvins, will the son of Tugra, who set out upon the sea, be left without your aid, or when will your chariot ever fail? Never, for you have always favored Kanva, the generous, in his house, with your constant support. Come now with newer, most auspicious aids, by which I, calling upon you, mighty ones, seek your favor. Just as you protected Kanva, beloved and praised, and Atri, and Shinjara as well, so too did you aid Agastya in the contest for wealth and Soma among the cows, and Sobhari in the contest for prizes. So much, or even more, do we, singing your praise, seek your favor, O mighty Ashvins. Your chariot, with golden yokes and reins, reaches to the sky; its pole, harness, axle, and both wheels are all golden and splendid. With this radiant chariot, O givers of horses, come to us even from afar, and accept these good praises of ours. From distant lands, you come, O Ashvins, bringing many gifts and nourishment, you immortal ones. Come to us with glory, with fame, with wealth, O Nasatyas, shining before all. Let your feathered, rain-bringing birds carry you to this worshipful gathering of people. Your chariot, accompanied by songs, moves with unstoppable strength; its wheel is never hindered. With golden chariot, swift hands, and rapid horses, you hasten, O Nasatyas, inspired by noble thought. You delight in the vigilant deer and the strong, wealthy bull—grant us, too, nourishment and wealth. Know these new gifts of mine, O Ashvins, as Caidiya, the generous, once gave a hundred camels and ten thousand cows. He who gave me ten kings, shining like gold, was never diminished; under Caidiya, his people thrived, and many gathered to him. Let no one else travel this path with me, for these Caidiya go forth; another may rise, but it is the giver of abundant gifts who is truly great. Now, the hymn turns to Indra, mighty by his strength, like Parjanya who brings the rain. Indra grew strong through the praises offered to him, nourished like a calf. You, who sustain the offspring of immortality, when the sacred fires are kindled, ride forth in the vehicle of truth, O wise ones. When the Kanvas praised Indra, the accomplisher of sacrifice, they called even the weapon kin. For his wrath, all peoples bow down, as rivers flow to the ocean. Such is his strength and brilliance: Indra, gathering his power, enveloped heaven and earth as if with a skin. With his thunderbolt of a hundred joints, mighty Indra split the head of the resisting Vritra, overcoming all opposition with his force. Thus, the hymns recount the glories of the Ashvins and Indra, their gifts, their protection, and their might, as sung by the grateful and hopeful hearts of those who worship them.