Let god Savitar send you onward in the path he hath laid, O stones that press.
Set yourselves to the yoke, fasten to the pole—press ye!

O stones of the rite, turn away all harm, all dark will.
Make the red-stalked draught a healing for our need.

In fellowship the stones do labor, showing their might upon the lower bed, giving strength like to a bull unto the Bull.

Now, O stones that press, let Savitar, god of the season, send you forth by holy rule, for his sake who bringeth forth the draught.