O Parjanya! Rain-god! Thunder-bringer! Thou whom the earth crieth out for when the fields are parched and dry! Come now with thy blessing! Come with thy life-giving waters!

The sky darkens at thy approach. The winds rise; the clouds gather; the air becomes thick with moisture. And then—the rain! The glorious, blessed rain! It falleth upon the earth like a gift from the gods themselves.

The plants do rejoice at thy coming. They lift their leaves toward the sky, opening themselves to receive thy blessing. The soil drinketh deeply; the roots do stretch downward, seeking thy nourishing waters. Within days, the withered field becometh green again; the drooping flowers lift their heads; the dying creatures return to life.

Thou art the father of all living things, O mighty Parjanya. Without thee, nothing could survive. Without thy rain, the world would become a barren wasteland. But with thee, life flourishes; joy aboundeth; the future is assured.

The thunder is thy voice; the lightning is thy hand raised in blessing. When thou speakest, all the world trembles with anticipation. When thou strikeest, the rain descendeth like a flood.

Come, O rain-god! Come and bless our fields! Make our crops grow tall! Make our herds multiply! Make our people prosper! Accept our offering; accept our prayers; accept our gratitude! For all that we have, we owe to thee!