Come thou forth to our sacrifice, O Agni, where five paths stretch, three rings encircle, and seven threads are drawn.
Be thou our bearer of gifts, our forerunner on the path.
Long hast thou lain shrouded in darkness.

In hidden ways I move, in secret I pass— a god fleeing from the ungodly, seeking life without end.

Though he bears me goodwill, I depart unkindly, leaving my own kindred for a foreign line.

I beheld him as a guest among another branch, and I measured out the vast domains of truth.

I hailed him as gentle toward the lordly sire, and I turned away from one who offered no rites, toward a rightful share of offering.

Many years have I dwelt within him—yet now I choose Indra, and leave the sire behind.
Agni is stirred, and Soma, and the Watcher of Vows; the crown is cast anew, and I come to lend it force.

Their might is spent, those lofty lords; their spells no longer bind.
And thou, watcher of law, if thou wilt favor me— sift truth from lies, O king, and come unto my throne and lordship.

Lo, the sun was once the sole thing prized, but now the spacious sky breaks forth in light.

Let us strike down Vṛtra, together—
come, Soma, though thou art thyself a gift, we give to thee an offering.

The bard, with sacred song, has set the shape in heaven.
Without wildness or wrath, the law-keeper loosed the waters.
At peace with one another like wedded wives, the rivers flow— each bearing his hue in her own clear course.

They follow his power, bright and prime among all; he dwelleth in quiet among them that rejoice in their own strength.

When they chose him, as tribes choose their king, they turned their backs on Vṛtra in scorn.

A goose, they say, is yoked with those who fled; a goose that glideth in the heavenly streams.

He who roams the skies in quest of praise— him the seers, in rapture, knew to be Indra.