Here is one light of thine, and yonder afar another; fuse thou with the third flame.

In the mingling of thy flesh, become thou beloved—dear unto the gods— at this highest path of bringing-forth.

Let thy frame, O thou that gainest the prize— guiding the flesh, raise up a treasure for our sake, and warding for thyself.
Be steadfast, that thou may’st uphold the lofty gods; and yield thy light as if in trade for Heaven’s own shining.

Thou art the winner, with spirit full of might.
Well hast thou fared to the fair dawns, keen-footed on the trail, well hast thou fared to the song, well to the heights above,
well according to the first and truest grounds, well to the gods, well along thy flight.

E’en the elders of old are not lords of their own vastness; the gods laid their mind’s fire amid their host, and they wrapped themselves in all that stirred and swayed— then entered once more their very forms.

With strength they strode through all the sky’s wide breadth, measuring the ageless bounds that none may reckon.

All breathing flesh is bound within its shape, yet through their seed have they stretched forth manifold.

The sons raise up their father as one who seeketh the sun in twainwise ways, and by a third deed besides.

Their fathers of old set their sons as their might— a thread well-stretched through the sons of afterdays.

As in a boat o’er swelling tide, across all ways of earth, beyond the rugged paths with blessing borne,

Br̥haduktha by his greatness hath set his seed both among the late-born and the first.