As evening descends, the bull’s mighty bellow echoes across the fields, calling the cows home. The divine ones, drawn by the sacred outpouring, journey toward the divine. Soma, pure and unstained as a fresh garment, envelops the shining, inexhaustible barrier—he has crossed into realms of brilliance. In the homes of men, the kindling woods are set together, and from their union Agni is born, released by skilled hands. Far-seeing and renowned, he is the lord of the house, ever to be invoked. The Vasus have placed this Agni among humanity, with clear vision, to help from wherever he is needed, always skillful in the home. Agni, youngest and radiant, shines brightly before us, his unfailing light a blessing. To him, ever, the rewards and prizes come. Nearby, the spotted cow steps forth, seeking her mother and father, longing for her own abode. Within shining realms, the great bull moves, his breath and exhalation revealing the sky. He shines in thirty abodes, his word set for the swift one; each day he approaches the dwelling, accompanied by the bright ones. As we gather for sacrifice, we utter mantras to Agni, reaching both those far away and those who listen close. He who was foremost among companions, who gathered peoples together, protected the worshipper’s life. May Agni, the wise and peaceful protector, guard our household and shield us from harm. Let all beings declare: Agni, slayer of Vṛtra, is born—winner of wealth, victorious in battle after battle. O Agni, yoke your swift and noble horses, those who bring the offering quickly. Come to us, O carrier, along your best paths, for our enjoyment and for the gods, to partake in the drinking of Soma. Shine forth, O Agni, Bhārata, with unfailing, lightning-like brilliance; blaze bright, undecaying one. For the one who presses Soma, the mortal does not desire that word; drive away the envious, as the Bhṛgus drove the faithless dog from the sacrifice. In the night, the twin is born, like a son at his parents’ breast. He moves swiftly, like a suitor to the maidens, and sits within the womb. That hero, skilled and accomplished, upholds the two worlds—Hari, protected in purity, the Creator who did not settle in a womb. Indra, you are without brother or kin, ever since your birth; in battle, you strive to surpass even your own father. You do not find the wealthy fit for friendship; your splendid horses drink when you call, and you are invoked like a father at the start of the gathering. A thousand, a hundred tawny-haired steeds, yoked to your golden chariot, joined with hymns, O Indra, let them bring you for the drinking of Soma. Your tawny horses, with peacock-like tails and dappled backs, draw you on the golden chariot for the sweet, pressed juice. Drink of this Soma, O lover of song, like one who drinks first, of the well-prepared, flowing draught; this outpouring is offered for your delight. Let the pourers pour out the hymn like a swift horse, powerful and surging, breaking through the woods and traversing the spaces. The thousand-streamed bull, the milk-giver, beloved for the birth of the gods, grew by truth, born of truth—the king, the god, the great truth. Agni has struck down obstacles; the bringer of wealth, shining, kindled, bright, is invoked with skill. In the womb of mother and father, the father sits, flashing in the imperishable, settled in the source of truth. O Jātavedas, bring forth prayers rich in offspring, O wise Agni, as you shine in the sky. His swift, golden, purified juice, pressed with the gods, circles the filter, resounding like cattle in the house—the Hotṛ priest. Wearing auspicious garments, the great sage is praised with words, purified in the vessel, wise and ever watchful in service to the gods. Beloved, cleansed on the mountain slope, the most glorious among the glorious is established among us. Purified, resound over the earth—may you always protect us with blessings. Now let us praise Indra, pure, with pure song and pure hymns. Grown strong, let him accept pure blessings. Indra, pure, come to us; pure, with pure aids; pure, bestow wealth; pure, delight in the Soma. Indra, pure, grant us wealth; pure, give treasures to the worshipper; pure, strike down obstacles; pure, seek the prize. Agni, today we desire the swift hymn, touching the sky, the favor of the god’s wealth. May Agni accept our songs, priest among men, and honor the divine assembly. O Agni, renowned and chosen, worthy priest, through you the sacrifice is spread. The voices praise the mighty, threefold, youthful one, shining, adorned with forests, like Varuṇa among rivers, who grants treasures and desirable gifts. O powerful leader, all-heroic and strong, victorious—flow forth, bring us wealth; sharp-armed, swift-bowed, conquer enemies in battles, mighty among warriors. With wide protection, creating fearlessness, flow forth together, O Purandhi, seeking waters; dawns, heavenly, resound, grant us great prizes. Indra, you are renowned, lord of strength; you alone destroy formidable foes, uphold the people, and surpass all in ancient deeds.