மருத்கள், those radiant and swift deities, set forth together as though traveling a shared path. Their terrible might does not disturb the earth or sky; rather, the gods accept even the aged into their circle of friendship. When one among them longs to join the Sun, he, swift and highly praised, fills both worlds with his power. Like the Sun himself, he skillfully drives his chariot, his fierce form blazing a path through the heavens. In the midst of their gatherings, the young men present a youthful maiden, beautiful and radiant, with blinking eyes. When the sacrificial hymn is sung for you, O Maruts, the Soma-pressers offer their song with deep devotion. I proclaim the greatness of the Maruts, a true and majestic power. When these mighty ones unite, even the most steadfast and blessed are carried forward by their strength. Mitra and Varuna protect us from blame, and Yama removes those unworthy. Even things that seem unshakable are moved, for the generous Maruts ever increase their gifts. Among you, Maruts, none is last or least for us; your power reaches to the farthest limits. With shining might, you roar like fierce waves, surrounding all with your strength. Today, we are favored by Indra; tomorrow, we shall speak in the contest. In the past and in the future, may the noble Ribhus always follow us. This praise, O Maruts, this song, is offered by the poet Mandarya, worthy of honor. May this blessing be granted to our descendants, and may we know our people, living long and well. Sacrifice after sacrifice, with united minds, you gods have spread wisdom. We call you nearby for good fortune, with strong hymns, seeking your great help. Like calves born of their own strength, the streams produce nourishment and light. Mighty, they move upon the waters, these ever-praiseworthy cows, never ceasing. Like Soma pressed and satisfied, the blessed ones drink in the heart. They delight in their own being, like a lush creeper, and their hands are filled with food and work. From the heavens, self-yoked and immortal, the Maruts rush forth by their own will. Born from dust, they shake even the firmest things, their vision shining bright. Who among you, Maruts, flashes with inner lightning, moving by his own will, like a tongue striking? Across the sands, seeking nourishment, he travels many paths, wandering here and there like a youngling. Where is the boundary of this vast realm? Where is the shelter the Maruts have reached? When you shake together the gathered things, like a winnower, you soar over the mighty ocean with force. Your protection, Maruts, is helpful, full of light, fierce and ripened, always desiring to nourish. Your generous gift is auspicious, broad and powerful, like a restless lord. The rivers resound in answer to the winds as they utter their abundant speech. Lightnings shine upon the earth when the Maruts sprinkle their butter of blessings. Prishni gave birth for great battle, to the fierce host of the Maruts. Sparkling, they produced the waters, seeking nourishment, and watched over the offerings all around. This praise, O Maruts, this song, is again from the poet Mandarya, worthy of honor. May this be granted to our descendants, may we know our people, long-lived. Indra, you are great, and from you these mighty ones arise; you protect the powerful. May the wise creator, knowing the Maruts, grant us favor, for we are your favorites. Indra, the unyoked ones set all peoples in motion. Wise and unopposed by mortals, the Maruts shine forth in their contest for the sun-filled prize. Your protection, Indra, is with us; the Maruts drive away our enemies with their strength. Even Agni, blazing, supports you; like waters bearing an island, they carry your ways. Indra, grant us that mighty wealth as a generous gift, like a reward for skill. And O Vāyu, those winds whom you praise, they fill the heart with riches like streams of honey. In you, Indra, are the most delightful riches, leaders of the righteous. May those Maruts show us mercy, who, like the gods of old, have always guided our path. Come, Indra, to the generous; strive for greatness on earth. Here, the noble ones of broad foundation stand firm at the crossing of heroic deeds. Hear, O Indra, the call of these fierce, tireless Maruts; let your answer come near. With their might, they protect the mortal who seeks battle, not letting him fall. Indra, with the Maruts, grant all wealth to those who praise you, strong in battle like bulls. With these hymns, you are praised, O god of gods; may we know our people, long-lived and victorious. There is truly no today or tomorrow; who knows what is wondrous? The mind of another is hard to follow; even what is learned may be lost. Why, Indra, do you wish to harm us? The Maruts are your brothers. Work together with them in goodness; do not strike us down in battle. O brother Agastya, though you are a friend, why do you think ill of us? We know your mind—you do not wish to give to us. Let the altar be prepared well, and the fire kindled in front. There, let us bring the awareness of immortality and offer you the sacrifice. You are the lord of wealth, master of treasures, best of friends, O lord of friendship. Indra, speak together with the Maruts; then accept the offerings in their proper order. With reverence, I approach you, O Maruts, with this hymn, seeking your favor. You, who grant gifts worthy of knowing, remove reproach and release the horses. This praise is offered to you with devotion, shaped in the heart and mind. Come, accepting with your minds, for you are strengthened by reverence. May the praised Maruts show us mercy, and may the gracious Maghavan do so as well. May our pleasant woods stand upright, and may the Maruts grant us victory every day. From this strength, I seek protection, fleeing in fear from Indra, O Maruts. May sharp offerings be for you; though we have acted differently, show us mercy. He who counts the mornings and dawns in their brightness, strong and enduring—may he, the bull with the Maruts, grant us fame, the steadfast and fierce one. Protect us, Indra, with those who are stronger; be with the Maruts, warding off reproach. Bearing good guidance, conquering, may we know our people, long-lived and victorious. Let your approach be splendid, let your help be splendid, O generous Maruts, shining like serpents. May your sharp weapons be far from us, O generous ones; may you cast the stone far away, O mighty ones. Around the dwelling of Tṛṇaskanda, O generous Maruts, you spread your presence; raise us upright for life. Thus, the glory and might of the Maruts, Indra, and the noble gods are sung and remembered, their blessings ever sought for the well-being, victory, and long life of the people.