Grow vast, O Heaven and Earth, ye mighty halves of the world; ye are as gladsome maidens unto us.
With these gods, shield us from the mightier foe; with their aid defend us when he swelleth with strength.

At every hallowed fire the mortal doth honor the gods, he of long renown who wooeth them with fair and kindly thoughts.

Ye who hold sway over all, the shield of the gods is strong indeed— for each beareth all might, and each is worthy of the sacred gift at the giving.

Joyful are the kings undying—Aryaman, Mitra, Varuna, and the Girdler of Earth; and Rudra, praised of men; the stormy Maruts, Pūshan, and Bhaga.

For us by night and by day, ye two givers of golden wealth—the Sun and the Moon— guide our way to the waters’ seat, when with them Ahi Budhnya is laid in the deep.

Let the Aśvins, fair in form, and Mitra and Varuna stretch wide the bounds of their domain for our sake.
He hasteneth unto wealth, o’er hardship as o’er a desolate land.

Let the Aśvins be gracious, though Rudras they be, and all the gods likewise— the Chariot-Lord, Bhaga, R̥bhu, Vāja, O Craftsmen of the R̥bhus, the Girdler of Earth, bringers of every gift.

Skilled is the Lord of the R̥bhus, and the draught that delighteth him is deftly made— let your twin bays, prize-winning and dun, speed hither— for his song is not soon outdone, his lone rite is like that of Manu of old.

Grant us great plenty, O god Savitar. I shall lift thy name in song with our lords beside us.
And with his steeds yoked firm, Indra draweth riches for these patrons of ours, and holdeth fast the wheel of the realms as one doth a rein.

Give them renown, O Heaven and Earth, that reacheth through all lands, and give our strong men increase—nourishment that breedeth gain, that beareth the prize of wealth.

O Indra, turn thy face toward us—come to this praise, wherever it be, in thy might, for our rule.
Ever shield us in our striving. Let our gain wax full, thou bounteous one.

This is my song for the noble-hearted, whose track shineth bright, as though it stretched unto the sun.
They have braced it, as a woodwright doth a yoke-piece for the horse, so it moveth not nor giveth way.

Theirs is the offering that rolleth, golden and harnessed with gain— strong as warrior hosts that face the foe, as one whose task is done as he willed it.

Before Duḥśīma, Pr̥thavāna, Vena I lift this song; before lordly Rāma and those high patrons who, yoking five hundred, sent them forth on the path, marked for us, so their gifts are now sung of far and wide.

Here and now beside us, seven and seventy at once did Tānva bestow; and so too did Pārthya, and so did Māyava, all in one accord.