O Aśvins merciful, O healers true! We call upon you and we run to you. Ye are the gods who succor those in need, who come at once to hear the crying plead.

A man lay dying in the waters deep, below the waves where darkness ever creep. His enemies had cast him there to die, and all his friends did lift their voices high.

Then lo! the Aśvins heard the mortal cry, and came descending from the starlit sky. They dove beneath the waves so dark and cold, and brought him up with gentleness untold.

They set his feet upon the solid ground, and all his pain and anguish lost its sound. His vision cleared, his strength did come again, and he rejoiced to walk among the men.

O Aśvins swift, ye are the friends of those who suffer much and carry heavy woes. The blind man calls, and ye restore his sight; the deaf man cries, and ye give back his might.

The widow weeping calls upon your name, and ye do dry her tears and end her shame. The orphan child who wanders cold and lone, finds in your care a warm and loving home.

Ye are the gods of mercy and of grace, who wear forever bright and shining face. Ye heal the body, ye do heal the soul, and make the broken spirit ever whole.

We praise you now for all that ye have done, for all the saving deeds since time begun. Accept our offerings of butter, milk, and song, and grant to us thy blessing ever strong.

O Aśvins blessed, ye most kind and true, forever shall our grateful hearts cleave unto you.