Behold—the mighty wheel with many spokes, now newly kindled, doth show itself forth.
He cometh to ply his craft—he who is wild as Rudra, yet gently born, O king.
Watchful he glareth, casting his great beam abroad; and thrusting back the blackness of Night, he draweth nigh to bright-born Dawn.

When with his form he hath outmatched the speckled dark, and brought to birth the maiden child of Heaven— lo, the young Dawn, sprung from her lofty sire— then he lifteth up the shining of the sun.

Heaven’s wheeled flame blazeth out, wide as the Vasus.

The blessed male draweth near, hand in hand with his blessed bride; as her mate he cometh behind his sister.

Through fair-omened days, Agni spreadeth himself afar, outshining the night with his bright-born hues.

This one—Agni, our gentle friend and guest— his goings are like the flare of heavenly summons.

In the path of the high Bull, worthy of praise, the nights themselves gleam as beams from his fire.

His rays, like holy chants, cleanse themselves when the high one riseth, bringing in the goodly day.

He it is that climbeth to the heights of heaven, his beams keen, free in play, and supreme in brightness.

His breath is heard in rumbling, as he panteth forth, his wheel-rim showing clear as he runneth with his team.

He, chief among the gods, this wheel of far-flung blaze, spreadeth his age-old light in crackling fire.

Bring now some mighty boon to us, and take thy seat here, as the wheel betwixt Heaven and Earth, the twain ever-young.

May Agni draw near with driving force, his steeds strong-thrusting, his breath a storm, his spirit tempest-born.