Whenever mighty Indra, the slayer of Vṛtra, has assumed his most illustrious names from times of old—this strong lord of power, the son of Pūru—we call upon him to accomplish our deeds. Now, the poet proclaims the supreme greatness of the waters in the house of the Sun. The seven rivers have flowed in threefold courses, and among them, the swift Sindhu surpasses all in might. Varuṇa has opened pathways for Sindhu to travel; when she rushes forth with her waves, she moves over the earth’s slopes and ridges, foremost among all the moving ones. A sound resounds in the sky, rising above the earth, as Sindhu sends forth her boundless force and radiance. Like rains thundering from the clouds, when the river comes, she bellows like a bull. To Sindhu, the mothers hasten as to a young calf, lowing, like cows eager for milk. Like a king in battle, she leads them onward, leaving none behind as she rushes. May Ganga, Yamuna, Sarasvati, Sutudri, and Parushni join in this praise; hear me, Asikni, Marudvridha, Vitasta, Arjikiya, and Sushoma. With Trishtama, the first to flow together, with Susartu, Rasa, and Shveta, and with Kubha, Gomati, and Krumu, the mighty rivers proceed with their chariots. Swift and shining, great in majesty, Sindhu carries away the old and stirs the realms. Unfailing, she sweeps away obstacles, manifesting wondrous forms like splendid horses. She is rich in horses, splendid in chariots, adorned in beauty, golden, skillfully fashioned, full of strength. She is woolly, youthful, virtuous, and bears sweet abundance. The river has yoked a smooth chariot for the Ashvins, with which she wins the prize in this contest. Her greatness is praised today—unfailing, glorious, and resplendent. Come, O Maruts, in the dawns of strength. Indra and Maruts, may you clothe the two worlds. As day and night accompany us, grant us a seat, a dwelling, and the path of light. Prepare the most excellent libation; like a skilled charioteer, the stone presses out the juice. O noble ones, grant victory, heroic power, great wealth, and swift insight. That very libation has been poured out for him, as before, as a path for Manu. In the cow-pen, in the house of the horse, at sacred rites, worshippers have sought him. Drive away demons, shatter destroyers, hold back misfortune, and dispel folly. Pour out for us wealth with all heroes, O gods; O stones, bring the song to Bharata. Even from the sky you are more powerful than these; among the shining ones you surpass them. Even from the wind, from Soma, from Agni, from the fathers, you are greater than these. May the stones, full of glory and strength, stir for us; with their voice, let them resound in heaven, where men draw the desired honey, proclaiming aloud, striving together. The stones press Soma, the charioteers; they draw out the juice for the contest. They milk the udder for pouring; the men prepare the offerings with their hands. These men, skilled in rites, have become; you stones, press Soma for Indra. Each of you, for the divine abode and for the earthly, press out wealth for the one who offers. Like rain from the cloud, their speech pours forth riches; like priests with offerings, wise in sacrifice. Like a hymn to the Maruts, they are worthy of praise; their company shines among the gods. The young men adorn themselves for glory, like the Maruts, for many bright nights. Sons of heaven, these are not to be restrained; the Adityas have not grown weary. Those who, like the sun, shine from heaven and earth, by their own power, disperse the clouds. Strong as heroes, glorious like princes, they are blameless, like advancing youths. In their depths, as in the bed of waters, nothing is torn apart, nor does the great one break; the all-encompassing sacrifice comes near to them, with offerings, as companions gather in assembly. They are yoked to the yokes like reins, shining with light at the dawns; like eagles, self-glorious and fierce, like travelers, swift and all-pervading. When the Maruts carry forth from afar the great wealth of Samvaraṇa, knowing the riches of the generous one, they drive away hatred even from a distance. Whoever, at the rising of the sacrificial fire, offers to the Maruts, not as a mortal, gains strong offspring and is protected by the gods. For they are worthy at sacrifices, these powers, most gracious by the name of Āditya; may they protect our chariot-seeking thoughts, as they move with greatness at the ritual, rejoicing. Like inspired sages with their thoughts, self-ruled; like gods with sacrifices, awake; like splendid kings, well-seen; like blameless youths among men. Like Agni, shining, with golden breasts; like winds, self-yoked and ever active; like wise elders, best in guidance, possessing good shelter; like Somas striving for truth. Like winds, they are swift, stirring, moving; like tongues of fire, shining; like armed warriors, equipped and strong; like the praises of ancestors, generous in gifts. Like the spokes and naves of chariots, enduring; like heroes, victorious in battle; like chosen youths, sprinkled with ghee; like singers, chanting the hymn with melody. Like noble horses, foremost in speed; like eager charioteers, generous; like waters descending with currents, moving; of manifold forms, like the Angirases with their chants. Like grinding stones, swift, mothers of the river, strong; like rocks, all-conquering; like playful children, well-nurtured; like a great troop, advancing with might. Like the lights of dawn, adorned for sacrifice; like swift ones, marked by their courses; like rivers, eager to flow, with shining vision; like distant travelers, they measure the leagues. May the gods make us fortunate, rich in gifts; may you, Maruts, who are praised, increase us; in the friendship of praise and song, your treasures endure. We have seen the greatness of the mighty one among mortals in the tribes; he bears diverse jaws, which come together in contest, biting, devouring, holding much. His head is hidden in secret, moving in different directions; biting, he eats the woods with his tongue. For him, offerings are brought with feet, with upraised hands, with reverence among the tribes. Seeking the hidden path of the mother, like a child, he creeps along the plants, searching for food. Like a young one, he found the cooked, shining; desiring, he lies within the lap of the foe. This, O immortal, I declare to you, O heaven and earth: the embryo, being born, consumes his mothers. I, a mortal, do not comprehend the god; Agni alone is the knower, the wise, the all-knowing. Whoever gives him food in thirst, offers with clarified butter and ghee, nourishes him; for him, with a thousand eyes, Agni looks in every direction, facing all ways. What offence have you committed among the gods, O Agni? I ask you, not knowing. Playful or serious, the tawny one ate the offering; bound by the fetter, he cut it, as a cow, he released it. Thus, the hymns celebrate the powers of Indra, the glory of the rivers, the might of the Maruts, and the mysteries of Agni, weaving together the wonders of the divine and the offerings of humankind, ever seeking the favor and wisdom of the gods.