O Rudra, the Howler! We sing thy dreadful name. Thou art the archer, the wild god of the mountains. Thy arrows fly like lightning; thy roar shaketh the earth. Fear seizeth all creatures when thou dost draw thy bow.

Yet hear us, O terrible one! We do not worship thee in hatred, but in awe. Thy arrows are barbed with death, yet we implore thee—turn aside thy wrath from us. Slay not our cattle, harm not our children. Direct thy fury upon our enemies, upon those who would do us ill.

O brown-necked god! Thy form is mighty and fearsome. Thy hair doth stream like fire. Thy eyes glow like coals. Thou wearest the serpent as ornament; the skulls of demons hang at thy breast. Yet in thee also liveth mercy—for those who revere thee, thou art a protector.

We offer unto thee the finest oblation. Accept our soma, accept our prayers. See how we bow before thee! See how we tremble at thy name! Not in defiance do we call upon thee, but in recognition of thy power supreme.

O Rudra, the fierce one, the wild one—grant us thy protection. Let thy terrible form turn toward our foes, not toward us. Let thy arrows strike the demon, the sorcerer, the man of evil will. But upon us, O howler, bestow thy gentleness.

We sing thy praise though fear doth grip our hearts. Thou art the mightiest of gods, the most to be feared. Yet fear itself is worship in thy sight. Accept our trembling adoration, O Rudra. Keep us beneath thy shadow, though thy shadow is terrible to behold.