Again the Kapiñjala crieth out! The bird-omen speaks once more as Mandala Two draweth to its close. We have gathered at the altar. We have pressed the Soma. We have kindled the sacred fire. The sacrifice is reaching its culmination. The moment of revelation approacheth.

What doth the bird say now? Does it speak blessing or warning? Does it carry the favor of the gods or does it portend calamity? O faithful ones, listen with utmost attention! The voice of this humble creature may hold the fate of us all.

O Kapiñjala, thou art the final messenger, the closing benediction of the Gṛtsamada family songs. Thou hast heard all our prayers. Thou hast witnessed all our offerings. Thou hast seen our worship and our devotion. Now, as this great mandala endeth, speak thy truth to us!

We praise thee for thy sacred service. We honor thee as the voice of the gods made manifest in the form of a bird. Thou standest between the human and the divine. Thou speakest in a language older than words, a language of omen and of fate, of sign and of wonder.

As the sun beginneth its descent toward evening, as the day draweth to a close, as Mandala Two completeth its cycle — we bid thee, O Kapiñjala, to carry our gratitude to the throne of the gods. Carry our prayers upward on thy wings. Tell the divine ones that we have honored them. Tell them that we shall honor them again tomorrow and all the days that follow.

O final bird-omen, thou closer of cycles, thou keeper of mysteries! Let thy cry echo across the lands. Let it ring through the heavens. Let the gods hear it and know that mortals still remember them, still worship them, still seek their favor and their grace. Bless us now, O Kapiñjala, with thy benediction as the Gṛtsamada hymns draw to their sacred end.