Up hath gone yon sun; and up with it my own fair fortune.
Lo, I, a cunning dame, have won the day o’er my lord, and stand now in triumph.

I am the beacon, the crown, the sharp of tongue in all disputes.
Let him follow only my will—my word, when I rise in glory.
My sons are smiters of their rivals, my daughter—broad in her sway.
And I, I am the full and finished conqueress.
To my husband, my call ringeth the highest.

The same oblation by which Indra, when he offered, was made the most bright among gods— that same have I now given, O ye gods,
and by it, I am made lone in his love.

No rival-wife have I; nay, I have struck them down, I have prevailed and won.

Their brightness have I stripped away, as one doth spurn the gifts of the witless.

I have wholly overcome them, set them beneath me, the would-be wives.
Now shall I reign far and wide over this hero and all his folk.