The gods, in their wisdom, appointed me as the tireless bearer of their sacred offerings, sending me forth through many trials and journeys. Agni, the all-knowing fire, became the arranger of our sacrifices, weaving them in intricate patterns—fivefold, threefold, and bound together by seven threads. Through these acts, I seek to win for you, O gods, the gift of immortality and heroic strength. May I clear a broad path for your coming, and may I place Indra’s mighty thunderbolt in your arms, so that with its power, you may triumph in every battle. In ancient times, three hundred and three thousand gods, plus thirty-nine more, gathered to honor Agni. They anointed him with ghee, spread the sacred grass for his seat, and established him as the Hotar—the priest who kindles the fire. The one whom we longed for in our hearts has now arrived, wise in the ways of sacrifice and skilled in the sacred rites. May this most worshipful presence grant us divine favor, for he who is with us is never far away. Let the Hotar, worthy of all praise, take his seat; let our well-prepared offerings be revealed. Together, let us honor the gods, pouring forth clarified butter and singing their praises. Today, O gods, you have answered our call. We have found the tongue of the sacrifice, the secret presence, who comes bearing life and clothed in fragrance. You have made this invocation fruitful and auspicious. Now, let me speak the first word—the word by which the gods overcame the Asuras. Strengthened by power, the worshipful ones among the five peoples accept my offering. Let all five peoples—those born of cows and those who are revered—receive my gift. May the earth shield us from dangers below, and may the midspace and heaven protect us from threats above. Weave the sacred thread, following the radiance of the sky. Guard the bright paths shaped by thought. Spin the thread without breaking, O waters, and shield us—be like Manu, and generate the divine race anew. Unhitch the yoke, O drinkers of Soma; loosen the straps, untie the reins, and smooth them out. Carry the eight-wheeled chariot all around, the very chariot by which the gods drew their beloved near. The stony one moves forward—let us unite, arise, and cross over, O friends. Here, let us leave behind those who did not aid us, and with the auspicious, let us seek greater rewards. Tvaṣṭar, master of arts and deep wisdom, brings forth the vessels for the gods’ drink, most auspicious. He sharpens the iron axe, the very tool used by Brahmanaspati to cleave obstacles. Indeed, the wise join together with axes—the very ones you used to fashion immortality. Knowing the secret steps, you create the paths by which the gods attained deathlessness. They placed the calf within the womb of the cow, with subtle mind and tongue. He, ever benevolent, approaches all things fit for him, the singer striving for victory. O Maghavan, your fame is great; when the trembling earth and sky called upon you, you led the gods and surpassed the strength of the Dasa, aiding the offspring of that one. As you acted, growing in body and might, you made your power known among the people. Let none call your battles illusions—today, the enemy is not as before, to be tested. Who has reached the limit of your greatness, O Indra? Which of our ancestors truly knew it? When you created both mother and father together, you did so from your own being. Four names of your lordship, O mighty one, are found in the buffalo. You alone know all these deeds, O Maghavan, and through them you have accomplished your works. You hold all things—treasures seen and unseen. Do not deny my desire, O Maghavan. You are the knower, you are Indra, the generous giver. The one who placed light within light, who brought forth sweetness with honey—now, O Indra, I offer my praise, my song uttered with sacred intent. Far away lies that hidden name, by which the trembling ones called upon you for strength. With your might, O Maghavan, you upheld earth and sky, radiant with the sons of your brother. Great is that concealed name, with which you, skilled in many ways, fashioned what has been and what will be. The ancient light born of you, beloved, was entered together by the five beloved ones. You filled earth, sky, and the middle space, five gods in turn, seven by seven. With thirty-four forms, you see all with your own light, shining distinctly. You first shone forth, bringing forth the first radiances, by which the nourished one is sustained. Your kinship stands just below the highest; your greatness is unique in its mighty lordship. The waxing moon, dwelling among many, young yet gray-haired, awakens. Behold the greatness of the divine poet—he dies yesterday, yet is born again the same. By power, the powerful, the ruddy, the eagle—great, heroic, ancient—knows what is true, not false; his wealth is splendid, both as conqueror and as giver. With these, he granted manly powers, and with the thunderbolt, drenched in might, slew Vṛtra. Those gods, born from the deed performed, arose from the ritual itself. By union, he creates all deeds, all-powerful, destroyer of evil, all-knowing, ruler. Having drunk Soma, growing in heaven, the hero drove out and subdued the enemies. This is yours, O one; that is yours, O another; with the third light, unite together. In your gathering, let your bodies rejoice, beloved of the gods, in the highest birthplace. May your vigorous form, leading forth strength, grant us delight and protection. Unharmed, may you create your own radiance for the great support, shining like light in the sky, O gods. You are strong with strength; with strength you win splendid prizes. With strength you have earned praise, reached the heavens, followed the first laws, and followed the gods—may we follow after you with strength. Even their ancestors could not match their greatness; the gods placed their wisdom among themselves. They distributed all things, and with their power, these forms entered again into their own shapes. With their might, they encircled the entire expanse, measuring out the ancient, limitless abodes. Into their forms all beings entered, spreading widely among the many peoples. The sons divided the demon who knows the sun in two, establishing him by a third act. The fathers, by their own strength, set their offspring and the ancestral thread among future generations. Like a ship crossing the sea or the directions of the earth, with blessings he overcomes all hardships. With his own offspring, the greatly praised one, in his greatness, set them among the later and the earlier ones. Let us not stray from the path, nor from the sacrifice, O Indra, O drinker of Soma. Let not our enemies overcome us. The thread which arranges the sacrifice, stretched among the gods—may we reach that, well-invoked. Now we call upon the mind, with the favor of Nārāśaṃsa and Soma, and with the thoughts of our ancestors. May that mind return to us—for resolve, for skill, for life, and so that we may see the sun clearly. May our ancestors, the divine race, grant us back our mind, so that we may unite once more with the living assembly.