O Maruts, ye storm troop! Ye violent sons of Rudra! Ye riders upon the winds! Come hither with your golden armor gleaming! Come hither with your spears of lightning flashing!

Who can stand before you? Who can withstand your fury? The mountains tremble at your approach; the earth shakes beneath your feet. The sky itself roars with your coming!

Your voice is the thunder that rends the clouds asunder. Your breath is the wind that bends the tallest trees. Your touch is the lightning that burneth all it toucheth. Yet we sing your praises, O mighty ones!

Ye are terrible in your wrath, yet kind to those who honor you. Ye stir up the waters and bring the rains to the thirsty earth. Ye blow away the clouds that hang heavy in the sky. Ye refresh the world with your passage!

The earth drinks deep when you pass by, O Maruts! The plants grow tall; the crops flourish. The cattle drink of the sweet water; the birds sing for joy. All creatures are glad when you come!

Come to our aid, O warriors of the sky! Stand beside us in battle! With your spears of lightning, slay our enemies! With your mighty winds, scatter our foes! O Maruts, terrible and glorious, receive our prayer!

The priest prepares the offering; the soma floweth into the vessel. Come down, ye storm gods, and drink of the sweet draught! Accept this gift from your faithful worshippers! Be our protectors; be our champions; be our friends forever!

O Maruts, ye whose golden chariots race across the heavens! Ye who are strong as mountains, swift as eagles, fierce as serpents! We bow before you! We honor you! We call upon you with voices full of awe and reverence!