To the man of the Māhīnas, whose brightness glittereth, who is hailed with songs of praise, we are come in homage, our heads bowed low.

To the Unmatched One, ever-brimming, ever-glorious, whose chariot runneth downward in shining strength, lord of the holdings of Bhajeratha, who swayed the tribes like buffalo in the field— those who bore iron arms and those who bore none, all bowed in battle beneath his hand.

By his behest is Ikṣvāku, full of storehouses and gold, made radiant, as the sun that shineth in heaven, and likewise the fivefold kin.

O Indra, uphold the kingly strength within the Asamātis and Rathaproṣṭhas, that they be seen as the burning sun upon the sky.

For the seed of Agastya thou dost harness a red twin-yoked pair.
Thou hast trodden down the hoarders, and all who give not, O king, thou hast laid them low.

Here abideth the mother, and here the father; here shall the means of life be found.

Here lieth a way to glide forth—Subandhu, come hither, come out!

As they bind fast the yoke with a leather thong, so is thy mind held— held fast, not unto death, but unto life, to make thee beyond all harm.

As this wide earth holdeth tight the trees of the field, so doth he hold fast thy mind— not for thy dying, but for thy safekeeping.

I have drawn the mind of Subandhu hence
from Yama, son of the Sun, not for death, but for a life no hurt may touch.

Downward bloweth the wind, downward falleth the sun’s hot gaze.
The cow sendeth her milk flowing downward— downward be thy sickness swept.

Here is my hand that bringeth good hap; and here, another, bringing better still.
Here is the one that healeth all; here the hand with a blessing’s touch.