Sing, O Muse, of Varuṇa, Mitra, Aryaman—the Ādityas who hold the world's reins, who bind it round with laws that cannot break. These are the guardians of ṛta, the cosmic order. They shine from heavens high, and their decrees no mortal transgresses.

Varuṇa sits enthroned in waters deep, his thousand-eyed gaze fixed upon all creatures. What man hath fled his watch? What secret deed escapes his sight? He knoweth the paths of birds in air, the courses of the ships, the paths of winds. His net doth spread across the sky.

Mitra, gentler, holdeth the covenant. He bindeth the tribes together; his friendship burneth bright as fire. When men do swear their oaths, when kindred clasp the hand, Mitra witnesseth and guardeth the bond. By his grace do we dwell together in peace.

Aryaman guideth us along the path. He openeth the way for the wayfarer; he holdeth the gates. Through him do suitors find their brides; through him do kinship bonds hold fast. He marcheth before us as a radiant friend.

Glory be to these three, the great Ādityas! Varuṇa of the waters, Mitra of the covenant, Aryaman of the ways. May they grant us long life, may they defend us from transgression, may they keep us within the bounds of law eternal.

Grant us their favour, O Immortals! Let not the law of Varuṇa turn its face from us. Let Mitra's friendship bind our kin. Let Aryaman clear our path. Thus do we praise thee, O Ādityas, guardians of the cosmic order—forever stable, forever wise, forever just.