Go hence, O Lord of Thought—depart thou; take thy leave and wander far.
And when thou art gone afar, cry out unto Dissolving:
“Many are the stirrings of mind among the quick.”

“Fortunate is the lot they draw; fortunate the steed they bind to the yoke; fortunate the gaze they set upon the son of Vivasvant.

In many a place doth the mind of the living wander.”

Whatsoever way we have stumbled upon—by longing, by scorn, by ban or bane, whether in waking or in sleep— let Agni cast it off from us, and set it far away:
all misdeeds, all that displeaseth.

If we have dealt falsely, O Indra, thou who rulest holy speech, let the watchful ones of Āṅgiras keep us safe from the force of them that bear us spite.

This day we have prevailed; this day we have won our cause.
We stand without guilt.
The waking shade, the ill-wrought wish—
let it fall upon him we abhor;
let it fall upon him who doth abhor us.