I honor Agni, the divine priest, the generous one, born of strength and wisdom, who knows all things and inspires all hearts. He stands upright, self-chosen among the gods, ever worthy of worship. He follows the stream of sacred ghee, his bright flames joyfully accepting the offering of clarified butter. We call upon you, Agni, most fit for sacrifice, greatest among the Angirases, with our thoughts and with the thoughts of the inspired. Like the sky that embraces all, you are the priest for all peoples, your shining hair radiant, the mighty one whom the clans uphold for guidance. Agni, with your great strength, you shine resplendent, untouched by deceit—like a flawless axe. Even what is firmly established in your assembly, you hear as if it were in the forest. Enduring and steadfast, you measure and lead, unconquered in battle. Your fame and vigor, O Agni, are ever new and great. Your radiant flames shine forth, brilliant one. With your might, you bestow the praiseworthy reward upon the worshiper, O wise sage. Radiant and pure, never lacking in light, you rise with your beam. Like a son moving between mother and father, you fill both the worlds. O Jātavedas, child of strength, rejoice in our well-wishes. Established by our thoughts, these have bestowed riches upon you, wondrously born and of great form. Shining one, reveal yourself among all beings, O Agni. Grant us, immortal one, wealth. You shine with the visible form, filling us with the power of insight. You are the maker of sacrifice, wise and sustaining, bestower of great gifts. You grant generous bounty, abundant food, and enduring wealth. The people of old placed you, Agni—the all-seeing bull—in harmony for favor. They set you, most renowned and widely praised, the divine one, with their voices, through all human ages. With your help and heroic strength, O Agni, one crosses over with valorous deeds. You have nurtured friendship with such a one. Your dark form, O Agni, is kindled by the priest and placed in the fire. Beloved of the dawns, dear in the nights, you reign among the dwellings. The plants have placed the sacrificial seed, the waters—the mothers—have generated Agni. The trees and herbs, those bearing within and those that flow, all together have produced him, the universal one. Agni is purified for Indra; in heaven he shines bright, born like a mighty bull. He who keeps watch is desired by the hymns; the chants go to him. Soma says to him, "I am yours in friendship, I dwell with you." Agni keeps watch, the hymns desire him; the chants go to him. Soma says to him, "I am yours in friendship, I dwell with you." Homage to the companions who sat before, and to those who sit together now. I harness the speech with a hundred paths. I harness the speech with a hundred paths, I sing the song with a thousand turns, the Gāyatra, Triṣṭubh, and Jagat meters. These meters—the Gāyatra, Triṣṭubh, and Jagat—the gods have gathered and made their abodes. Agni is light, and light is Agni; Indra is light, and light is Indra; Sūrya is light, and light is Sūrya. Return again, Agni, with nourishment—with food and life. Return again and protect us from harm. Return with wealth, O Agni, prosper with abundance, with all-encompassing sustenance, and spread everywhere. If I, Indra, could rule wealth as you do, then let my praise be singular; let my friend be a giver of cows. May I learn for him, may I give to him, O lord of power, O wise one, if I may be the master of cows. O Indra, let the sweet-speaking cow yield nourishing milk, cattle, and horses for the sacrificer and the one who presses. Waters, come here, bring delight; place strength within us for great vision and for battle. That most auspicious essence of yours, let it be shared with us here, like mothers nourishing their young. Therefore, let us approach the one for whose dwelling you strive. O waters, generate and nurture us. May the wind blow healing, bringing happiness and delight to us; may it carry us across to long life. O wind, you are our father, our brother, our friend—grant us life. Whatever nectar is hidden in your house, O wind, concealed in secret, grant that to us for life. Swift and all-formed, the great carrier bearing the golden egg—the mighty bird clothed in the sun's rays—moves in order, self-born, and has generated wisdom. In the waters was placed the seed, all-formed, the radiance that arose upon the earth; measuring his own greatness in the mid-space, he advanced, the seed of the vigorous horse. Adorned with a thousand, clothed in rays, the sacrifice upholds the sun's brilliance; giver of thousands, of hundreds, of much—supporter of heaven, lord of the world. In heaven, when the bird with golden wings flies up, people gaze upon it with their hearts; you are the messenger of Varuna, bird of Yama's realm, the shining one. The Gandharva stands upright in heaven, bearing his bright weapons, clothed in fragrance for vision; he generates the golden name, beloved things. The drop moves toward the ocean, seeing with the vulture's eye, fulfilling its order; brilliance shines with pure flame, creating beloved things in the third realm. The ninth, the third part, swift and shining like a mighty bull—terrifying, thundering, stirring men—advancing, unblinking, a single hero; Indra conquered a hundred armies together. With advancing, unblinking, victorious, ready, hard-to-move, bold Indra—conquer! Stand together in battle, O men, with the mighty one holding the arrow. He, with those holding arrows and bearing quivers, the master, the leader in battle—Indra with his troop, the victorious, soma-drinker, strong-armed, fierce-bowed—strikes with his weapons. O Brihaspati, drive around with your chariot, repelling demons and enemies; break armies, crush in battle, conquer, and make us the best among chariots.