O Aśvins twain, ye horses bright! Ye chariots that fly through dawn! Come to us now from heaven's realm; come riding on your golden car. The morning breaketh grey and cold; the darkness fadeth from the sky. Ye bring the light; ye bring the warmth; ye usher in the day of days.

O healers wise, O merciful! Ye cure the sickness and the pain. Ye give the blind man back his sight; ye give the lame man legs to walk. The broken bones ye mend with skill; the wounds ye soothe with gentle touch. Ye are the champions of the weak; ye hear the cry of the distressed.

The mortals praise you, Aśvins sweet! Ye come at every break of dawn. The priests do see you in the mist, the twilight hour 'tween night and day. Ye ride before the sun itself; ye lead the way for Sūrya bold. The stars do pale when ye draw near; the cosmos greets your swift approach.

O horses, swift and never tired! Your chariot hath no equal on. The wheels do spin; the harness gleams; the yoke is fitted true and fast. Ye gallop through the vault of sky; ye leap from realm to realm above. Ye visit both the gods and men; ye know the pathways both divine.

Come now to us, O Aśvins dear! Accept this hymn with gladness true. The soma hath been pressed and strained; the butter flows in golden streams. The altar gleams with sacred flame; the priests do raise the ancient song. Grant us the blessing that we seek; grant us your favour and your grace.

Keep us in safety through the day; keep us protected through the night. Let no ill befall our kin; let sickness pass our dwelling by. Grant us the strength to face our foes; grant us the courage and the will. For ever let your names be praised; for ever let your glory shine.