I begin the holy work with thee in mind, and I send forth my thought toward thee, that thou mayest be the one praised when we call upon the gods.

Thou art as the first draught in a barren land, O Agni, for Pūru who seeks thee, O king from the first days.

Unto thee the tribes gather, as kine to a warm fold, thou who art ever young.

Messenger art thou, between the gods and men— a great one who walkest the shining path between both realms.

Like a swift colt held in joy, thy mother reareth thee, glad for the delight thou bringest.

Down from the high place thou rushest, eager, like a freed beast seeking its keep upon the slope.

We, being witless, know not thy full might— but thou, who art not witless, observest all.

Still lieth thy cloak of wood, yet thou movest within, licking it with thy flame.
Thou, chieftain of the hearth, lickest the fair-handled ladle again and again.

Wheresoever it be, thou art born afresh amid the elder wood.
Grey art thou, standing in timber, with a banner of smoke above.
Though thou canst not swim, thou pursuest the waters like a bull— led forth by men of one accord.

As thieves creep into woods at peril of their lives, so are thy limbs bound with tenfold cords— the two arms fasten thee, as though to harness thee.
Lo, Agni, a new word is kindled for thee here:
yoke it as a cart, with thy burning limbs for reins.

Words of rite, words of praise, and this our chant shall be as strength unto thee, O Jātavedas.

Keep watch o’er our children and the seed of our house, and ceaselessly guard our flesh, O Agni, thou watcher in flame.