The people, longing for warmth and protection, gather around Agni as cows huddle in the shelter of their enclosure. Agni, ever young, is the sacred messenger, moving freely among gods and mortals, shining amidst the great lights of the heavens. He is cherished like a child, nurtured by his mother who seeks his company, carrying him gently. Eager and restless, Agni follows the river’s course, released into the world like a spirited beast. We are not ignorant of your greatness, O Agni; with wisdom, we recognize your power. You lie within the enclosure, your tongue flickering, as the master of the house approaches the young bride. Born anew in every home, Agni stands tall in the woods, his banner of grey smoke rising high. Insatiable as a bull, he moves forth, guided by the wise and led by mortals. Hidden in the forest like a thief of forms, bound by ten straps, Agni, you conceive new thoughts—now, harness the shining chariot. To you, Agni, knower of all births, we offer our prayers and reverence, wishing our hymns may always nourish you. Protect our children and offspring, guard our bodies ceaselessly, O Agni. From the depths of the heart, Agni beholds the single ocean, the very foundation of riches and the source of many births. He stirs the udder of the twin mothers, setting the path of the bird in the lap of the source. The bulls, robed alike, join with the mares. Poets, guarding the secret path of truth, hold the names of the distant ones close. Truth and magic unite, giving birth to the child, nurturing him. At the navel of all things, the steadfast poets weave the thread of creation with their minds. For the well-born paths of truth, offerings unite, seeking strength from heaven. The adorned worlds are nourished with clarified butter and honeyed foods. The wise one, longing to be seen, releases the seven sisters—the rushing rivers of honey. He discovers the ancient enclosure in the midst of space, the hidden place of Pūṣan. The poets have drawn seven boundaries, one set apart and difficult to cross. The iron pillar stands deep within the foundation, amidst the vast expanse of the paths and supports. In the highest heaven, in the womb of Aditi, at the birth of Dakṣa, both the existent and non-existent were present. For us, Agni is the first-born of the cosmic order, the ancient bull and the cow. It is under Agni’s shelter, with new songs of praise, that the singer grows strong, blessed by Agni’s favor. Surrounded by the radiant lights of seers, Agni moves about, shining brightly. With his rays, Agni shines forth, ever true with the gods. Tireless, he spreads friendship among friends, swift as a racer among horses. He rules over all divine aid and life at dawn. Into him, O Agni, offerings are placed with the mind. He is the most excellent charioteer, upholding all with his powers. Rejoicing in hymns, strengthened by his might, he swiftly approaches the gods, eager for the offering. As the gentle Hotṛ, Agni mingles with the gods and tastes the offerings. Honor Agni with words and reverence, as one honors Indra, ever victorious. The wise praise him with their thoughts, for he is the knower of all births, the strong one who receives the offering. In Agni, all treasures are gathered, as horses with seven reins in a contest. Grant us, O Agni, the most Indra-like and Vāta-like aids, and bring them near. By your greatness, O Agni, you sat down and became the offering as soon as you were born. The gods followed your sign, and the first mothers increased your strength. Grant us well-being, O Agni, from heaven and earth; bestow all life for the sacrifice. May we unite with your wondrous insights; make us spacious with your generous blessings. These thoughts, O Agni, born for you, praise you with cattle and horses as reward. When mortals partake of your joy, supported by their thoughts, they honor you, O well-born one. I look upon Agni as father, as mother, as brother, and as a constant friend. I worship the radiant face of Agni, the great and adorable one, shining like the sun in heaven. May our thoughts, O Agni, succeed for us, for you are the eternal Hotṛ who guards the house. True to the cosmic order, with red horses, much-praised, may you bring us shining days and good fortune. Like a friend set in radiant days, Agni is the ancient officiant, the spouse of the sacrifice. The priests, with their arms, generated Agni and seated him as Hotṛ among the clans. O god among gods, offer the sacrifice yourself in heaven; what can the unwise cooking do for you? Sacrifice to the gods in the proper seasons, O well-born one, and offer yourself. Be our protector and guardian, O Agni; grant us youthfulness and long life. O most generous, bestow upon us the gift of offerings; shield us, and let not our bodies fail. With great radiance, Agni advances, roaring like a bull between heaven and earth. Even at the ends of the sky, the mighty one grows in the lap of the waters. The embryo, the bull, rejoices, bearing a hump; the shining calf, full of strength, bellows. He raises the divine powers, prevailing first in his own abodes. He, who took hold of his parents’ head, was established in the sacrifice. The red mares with horse-yoked chariots delight in his descent, in the womb of truth, in their own bodies. O Vasus, you came forth first at dawn, becoming the light among the twins. For truth, you set seven steps, creating Mitra for your own self. You are the eye of existence, the guardian of truth; you are Varuṇa when you move for truth. You are Jātavedas, offspring of the waters, the messenger who delights in the offering. You are the leader of sacrifice and of the realm, joining with auspicious helpers. In the sky, your head shines; Agni, your tongue is the bearer of offerings. Trita, by his will, chose the middle space, seeking his father’s shelter and the distant one. Seeking alliance in his parents’ lap, the kinsman wields the ancestral weapons, urged by Indra. The descendant of Āpti fought, striking down the three-headed, seven-rayed one; even Trita released the cows of Tvaṣṭṛ. Indra, with great strength, overcame the one who thought himself most powerful, striking him down. Even of Tvaṣṭṛ, the all-shaped one, he seized the cows and cut off the three heads. Waters, come to us, bringers of delight; grant us nourishment and vision for the great contest. Share with us your most auspicious essence, like loving mothers. Let us approach you, O waters, in whose dwelling you inspire; may you also generate us anew. May the divine waters, rich in blessings, flow for our drinking and well-being, bestowing their grace upon us.