In the ancient days, when the gods gathered in heaven, they joined their powers in praise and brought forth Agni, the lord who bridges two realms. With their divine might, they fashioned him threefold to serve the world, and Agni became the one who cooks the herbs of every form, nurturing all creation. The worthy gods, recognizing Agni’s greatness, placed him in heaven as the radiant Aditya, the solar presence. When the moving pair appeared—sun and moon—the worlds, once hidden, became visible to all. For the sake of every realm, the gods made Agni universal, a sign of their strength. He stretched out the dawns, stirred the shining waters, and banished darkness with his flame. The wise, those worthy of sacrifice, brought forth Vaiśvānara Agni, the undying fire. The ancient star, ever moving, approached—mighty and splendid, overseeing mysteries. To this all-encompassing, shining Agni, the sage, hymns were sung. By his greatness, he enveloped the vastness of existence, and yet he remains the god beyond even that. The seer speaks of two streams: one belonging to ancestors, the other to gods—and also to mortals. By these streams, all things move and unite, whatever lies between father and mother. Two harmonious paths bear Agni, the moving one, born from the head and shaped by mind. He stands facing all worlds, shining brightly—a swift messenger, sent not by others but by his own nature. Where the lower and higher realms converse, who among us truly knows the sacrifice? The companions reach the common seat; they mark the ritual, but who can declare its mystery? How many fires, how many suns, how many dawns and waters are there? The ancestors are not hidden, but the seer asks the wise for knowledge—whom shall he learn from? As long as the measure of dawns exists, not their likeness, the swift-winged Mātariśvan dwells. So long does the Brahman, the priest, establish the sacrificial seat, maintaining the sacred order. Turning to Indra, the hymns proclaim his greatness. Indra, best among men, overcame the spaces and boundaries of heaven. He filled peoples with strength, radiating his majesty from the rivers outward. Like the sun, Indra surrounds the broad realms, turning as a charioteer who made the wheels of creation. With his brilliance, he struck down darkness and overcame obstacles. The singers, unhindered, join together in new hymns for Indra, both on earth and in heaven. Like a craftsman, he shaped generations, seeking friendship not for himself alone. For Indra, songs arise from the depths of the ocean, unrestrained. With his powers, he established earth and sky everywhere, like an axle holding all together. Indra’s wrath, fierce and swift, burns like a roaring fire—sharp and pure. Soma, the sacred drink, traverses all forests, and rivers measure Indra’s greatness. There is no sky, earth, desert, midspace, mountain, or river that Soma does not reach. When Indra’s wrath is aroused, he hears and breaks what is firm. He slew Vṛtra, like a force in the forest; he broke the fortresses and opened the rivers. He split the mountain, released the ninth vessel, and made the cows with his own teams. Indra, resolute, breaks obstacles like an axe splits joints. Those who violate the law of Mitra and Varuṇa do not harm the friend, for Indra protects them. Those who injure Mitra, Aryaman, the singers, and Varuṇa—Indra punishes the strong and wild among the unfriendly with his power. Indra is lord of heaven, earth, waters, mountains, the strong, the wise, and is lord in home, gathering, and offering. Indra has extended from the east, from the mighty ones, from the days, from the midspace, from the ocean’s depths, from the spreading wind, from the boundaries of heaven, from rivers and lands—he radiates everywhere. Like the bright herald of dawn, Indra’s weapon shines forth, ever victorious. He strikes down treacherous foes as one splits a stone, hurling his blazing missile from the sky. The months follow one another in order, as do the plants and mountains. Earth and sky attend upon Indra in his strength, and the waters support the newborn one. When will the moment come, O Indra, when this destroyer of evil will be overthrown? When, like cows at pasture, will the enemies who act as false friends lie scattered upon the earth? Those who are hostile, gathering in great numbers, let them be utterly defeated by Indra. Let the unfaithful, joined with darkness and blindness, be surrounded by those who possess true light. For Indra, the offerings and hymns of sages bring delight. They call to him with eager invocation, inviting him near, passing over all others who sing his praise. May we, O Indra, among those who enjoy your favor, know the new blessings of your goodwill. May we, singing your praise, know the wealth of your help; may all friends, O Indra, know you now. Let us call upon generous Indra, the best hero in contests of prize and strength. May he, fierce and attentive in battles, hear us, strike down foes, and win wealth. Now, the story turns to the Cosmic Person, Purusha, who has a thousand heads, a thousand eyes, and a thousand feet. He encompasses the earth on every side, extending beyond it by ten fingers’ breadth. This entire universe is indeed that Person—what was and what will be. He is the lord of immortality, growing beyond through food. Such is his greatness, yet the Person is greater still. All beings are but a quarter of him; three quarters, immortal, dwell in heaven. Three quarters of the Person rose upward, while one quarter was born here again. From that, he spread out in all directions, into what eats and what does not eat. From him was born Virāj, and from Virāj, the Person again. When he was born, he spread beyond the earth, both behind and before. When the gods performed the sacrifice with the Person as the offering, spring became the clarified butter, summer the fuel, autumn the oblation. They anointed that sacrifice—the Person who was born at the beginning—upon the sacred grass. With it, the gods, Sādhyas, and ancient sages performed their sacrifice. From that sacrifice, entirely offered, was gathered clarified butter mixed with curds. He created the animals of the air, of the forest, and of the village. From that sacrifice, the Rig and Sāma hymns were born. The meters arose from it, and from it, the Yajus came forth. From it, horses were born, and all animals with two rows of teeth. Cows came forth, as did goats and sheep. When they divided the Person, they arranged him into many parts. His mouth became the Brahmin, his arms the Kshatriya. From his thighs the Vaishya was born, and from his feet arose the Shudra. Thus, through the divine actions, the world was shaped by Agni’s fire, Indra’s strength, and the sacrifice of the Cosmic Person. All creation, all order, and all beings arose from this sacred unfolding, as sung and remembered in the hymns.