What seekest thou, Saramā, that thou art come this far?
The road is long, and the far reach devoureth the wanderer.
What errand draweth thee to our dark door?
By what craft didst thou cross the black waters of Rasā?

By Indra’s word I ride, his messenger sent swift.
I come to seek the hoards ye hide, ye Paṇis, great and deep.
Though fear did seize us in the leap, a force unseen did bear us— so was Rasā crossed, and I stand now before thee.

And what is this Indra, then, that thou shouldst race in his name?
What look hath he, whose call thou heedest from afar?
If he will stand before us, we shall make terms— he may tend our herds and guard our kine.

I know him not as one to be fooled—
he is the fooler of all fools.
The deep-flowing rivers veil him not.
Indra shall break you, Paṇis, and ye shall lie in dust.

Thou wouldst take these kine thou didst glimpse from heaven’s edge?
Think not we’ll yield them meekly.
Our weapons are keen; we are no herd to scatter.

Thy words are but air and echo.
Though thy cursed flesh be proof 'gainst shaft and spear, though thy lair lie hidden past all path—

Br̥haspati shall still show no mercy.

This hoard, set firm upon stone, overfloweth with kine and gold.
We, the watchful, guard it well.
Thy way was wasted—no prize awaiteth thee here.

The seers come, kindled by soma’s fire—
Ayāsya, the Aṅgirases, the Navagvas.
They shall break thy fence and divide thy spoils.
Then shall thy bold words be spewed as bile.

Thou art come, driven by a power thou canst not flee.
Yet I would call thee sister.
Go not hence—take a share of the kine. Stay.

I know no bond of blood with thy brood.
Indra knows. The fierce Aṅgirases know.
They burned with desire for kine when I came.
Get thee hence, Paṇis—far away and farther still!

Away with thee, ye hoarders of falsehood!
Let truth rise in thy place.
Let the kine come forth once hidden—
found by Br̥haspati, with soma, with stone, and with the soul-lit speech of seers.