Let the sacred offering not be measured or held back; O Ashvins, you who are praised in this place, come now for the midday drink. May your gracious presence return again and again with favor for your devoted worshipper. Come, O Ashvins, to every gathering—at dawn, at midday, at the rising sun. By day and by night, with peaceful intent, your libation is prepared and spread forth for you. The Dawns have revealed their sign; in the first half of heaven, they are adorned with radiant light. Like shining weapons, the red cows, their mothers, move forth in ordered procession. The ruddy rays soar upward, their strength unrestrained; the red cows are yoked. The Dawns follow their ancient, eternal paths, and the shining radiance settles upon these red ones. The women, active and joyful, sing with their voices—not in weaving, but in praise. Joined together in a single yoking, they travel far, bearing nourishment for the doer of good, for the generous, for all who sacrifice and pour the offering. Agni has awakened, and the sun rises; the Dawns spread their shining light. The Ashvins yoke their chariot to depart, and the god Savitar sets the world in its order. When you yoke your vigorous chariot, O Ashvins, pour out for us strength, sweet as ghee and honey. Inspire our prayers in battle, and may we, led by the hero, win riches. Let the chariot with three wheels, carrying sweetness, drawn by swift horses and praised by all, come here for the Ashvins. May the generous one, rich in all good fortune, bring happiness to both two-footed and four-footed beings. Your streams, O Ashvins, flow forth like rain from the sky, approaching the prize that is a thousandfold. Beholding all lovely songs, the tawny one moves forward, stirring up his weapons. He, cleansing himself with his limbs, sits like an elephant, like a king of good vows, or a falcon upon a branch. May he bring us all treasures from heaven and earth—purified, O Soma, bring them here. The ninth, the first portion, flows; the strong streams of pressed Soma pour forth with power, following the path of the gods. The wise ones cleanse the team, singing with their voices; the poets, with their hymns, generate radiant light. O mighty Soma, for your purification, may your powers grow strong, reaching the ocean of praise. This is the sacred utterance: I praise Indra, renowned by name, the priestly one. To you, Lord of strength, the words of praise go forth, unrestrained. As streams flow along their path, O Indra, so may gifts come to you today. To you, we guide the chariot, as is fitting, seeking your favor—O most powerful Indra, mighty master of riches, breaker of hosts. With mighty force, with great and powerful deeds, by your wisdom you have spread greatness everywhere. By your greatness, O mighty one, your two hands grasp the golden thunderbolt. As a sage and seer, you advanced to the ancient city, shining like the sun, with unwearied spirit. The twice-born priest stood shining across the three heavens, across all regions, most worthy of sacrifice, in the seat of waters. This is that priest, the twice-born, who established all precious things for fame; the mortal who offers to him with Soma gains the reward. Agni, today with praises may we attain the swift horse and the good resolve that touches the heart, with your help. Thus, O Agni, you have become the charioteer of good resolve—the wise, the righteous, the great. With these hymns, be near to us, O Agni, with all your gracious faces, and bring us the radiant light. Agni, of Vivasvat’s Dawns, bring the splendid, immortal gift to the worshipper; O Jātavedas, today awaken the gods. For you are the beloved messenger, the carrier of offerings, O Agni, charioteer of the rites; together with the Ashvins, grant us heroic strength and great fame. The young one, though gray-haired, awakens among many in the assembly; see the divine wisdom of the god—yesterday he died, today he is born the same. By his power, the strong, the ruddy, the eagle, ever heroic and steadfast, perceives truth as his food; his wealth is not vain—he is both conqueror and giver. With these, he gave manly powers and heroic deeds, with which the wielder of the bolt poured forth for the slaying of Vṛtra; the gods were born from the great act, apart from the act itself. This Soma has been pressed; the Maruts drink of it, and so do the radiant Ashvins. Mitra, Aryaman, and Varuna drink the pure Soma, each according to their share, from the threefold vessel. And Indra too delights in the rich Soma, like a morning priest, enjoying its pleasure. You are great, O Surya; you are Aditya, the mighty one. Your greatness is supreme among all who are great; by your vastness, O god, you are truly great. O Surya, by your fame you are great; by your power, O god, you are great. By your vastness, you are foremost among gods, O Asurya, the priest, the all-pervading light, unassailable. Come to us with your steeds, O lord of delights, to the pressed Soma; come to us with your steeds, to the Soma. Indra, slayer of Vṛtra, wise and hundred-powered, come to us with your steeds, to the Soma. For you, O Vṛtra-slayer, are the protector of these Somas; come to us with your steeds, to the Soma.