Behold! The Aśvins come. They ride upon the wind, swifter than thought itself, swifter than the eagle's flight. Their chariot is not drawn by horses of common breed, but by stallions born of the stars, whose manes stream with golden fire. The sky opens before them; the darkness breaks.

Where are they riding? To the aid of mortals. To the bedside of the wounded. To the heart of the sorrowful. They have no time for tarrying, these twin brothers — every moment brings new suffering to one whom they might ease. And so they gallop, gallop through the dawn, and none can match their speed save the wind itself.

See how they shine! Their bodies gleam like burnished gold. Their eyes are bright as the morning star. Their hands are skilled in healing, their voices strong in blessing. The very earth trembles beneath their passage. The rivers turn to look upon them. The birds cry out in wonder at their swiftness.

In that moment between night and day, when all the world hangs poised between darkness and light, there come the Aśvins. They are the harbingers of the dawn, the guardians of the threshold. They ride at the edge of time itself, witnessing the birth of each new day. Blessed are they who call upon them in that sacred hour!

O swift ones, twin horsemen of the sky! Your coming brings hope to the hopeless. Your touch makes whole what was broken. You are the first to answer prayer, the first to bring relief. And so we sing thy praises, O Aśvins, as long as the sun shall rise and the stars shall shine!