O Ṛbhus, ye masters of marvels, tell us the deeds of your hands! For your works are spoken of in heaven and upon the earth; your names are lifted high in the halls of the devas. What craft hath begotten such wonders?

One cup ye took and transformed into four, each perfect and complete, yet wrought from the substance of the first. The wood did bend beneath your hands as clay bendeth beneath the potter's touch. You did divide without breaking, create without addition, perfect without flaw. Even Indra himself did marvel at the sight.

But this was not your only labour. In the twilight of days, when your father and mother had grown old and their limbs did tremble with age, ye did approach them with reverence and cunning. Then did ye rejuvenate them, restoring to their bodies the strength of youth, making them whole again as if the years had never touched them. Their hair grew dark, their eyes bright, their step firm as before.

Thus ye proved that the power of the maker reacheth beyond the wrought object into the very sinews of life itself. You did remake not mere substance but the essence of vitality. The devas beheld this and crowned you among the immortals, saying, "These are no longer mortal; they have transcended the bonds of flesh through the alchemy of skill."

See how your fame spreadeth throughout the three worlds! In heaven the Adityas speak your praises; upon earth the wise recall your deeds; below, even the forces of death acknowledge your mastery. Ye are the proof that mortals need not remain mortal if they possess the courage, the wit, and the unwearying hands to remake themselves and all they touch.