Awakening, he is kindled by the watchful, master of the hearth within the house, refreshed where refreshment last did tread, the chosen Hotar of every gift, far-striding, far-shining, a true companion to the one who stands as friend.

With beauty fair to behold, a guest in every dwelling, in every piece of timber is he set, as a hawk in flight amidst the trees.
He is of the folk, and turneth not from any people.
Of the kin is he, and abideth in all their tents.

Full of craft by thy cunning, full of strength by thy will, O Agni, thou art the wise poet through thy song.

A goodly one, thou alone dost keep the treasure, fostered by both Earth and Heaven.

Foreknowing Agni, thou settlest in due season to thy butter-rich womb, where refreshment left its trace.

Thy comings gleam like the mornings, thy reins as clean as the sun’s own beams.

Thy fair lights blaze as the lightning before rain, gleaming like the beacons at dawn’s edge.

Loosed toward tree and leaf, thou claspest them all, taking them to thy mouth as thy meat.

The green things bore him as their seed in season; the waters, as his mothers, brought him forth.

The trees and sprigs swelled with life,
birthing him who changeth not in any place.

When stirred by wind, aroused, thou spreadest abroad, harrying the dry meat as thou dost please.

Thy undying hosts—thy flames—set themselves apart like charioteers in line, as thou consumest, O Agni.

Maker of wisdom, forwarder of the rite,
Agni the Hotar, greatest in gathered thought, him they call for at the small offering, him again for the great—none other than thee.

The wise in worship choose but thee, Agni, as Hotar at the rite; they seek the gods through thee, laying before thee gifts that bring delight, offering with bent grass in hand.

Thine is the task of Hotar, thine of Potar in its turn; thine too the Neṣṭar’s seat. Thou art the fire-waker of him who walketh the path of truth.
Thine is the charge of Praśāstar;
thou servest as Adhvaryu, as Brahman and house-lord alike.

The mortal who, for thee the deathless,
O Agni, doeth pious work with stick or sacred meal— for him thou becomest the Hotar, his quest thou takest upon thyself.
Thou speakest for him, thou sacrificest, thou fulfillest the Adhvaryu’s part.

These offerings—our thoughts, our words, our songs, our verse, and fair praises—have come to thee, to Jātavedas, the good, the strength-giver of strengthful lays.

This new hymn I would lift to him, the age-worn yet ever hungry for song.
Let it reach his heart, drawing nigh as a bride arrayed in beauty comes unto her love.

To him are loosed the horse, the bull, the ox, the yoked cow and the ram, all poured forth— to him who drinketh kīlāla, with soma on his back.
For such a one I fashion a lovely thought with all my heart—for Agni.

An offering is poured into thy mouth, Agni, as ghee to the ladle, as soma to the cup.

Grant us wealth that winneth reward, rich in brave men, renowned, bright, and high.