Ye Aśvins twain, swift-moving, golden-charioteed, who dwell in the house of riches vast, be pleased with us. Come hither, bring the splendid horses to our rite.

Ye Aśvins, lords of all the waters' gentle flow, ye who bear the weary and the faint unto their home, come ye with healing touch, lords of the golden morn.

We call on you who saved Bhujyu, set upon the rolling sea, when the good ship drave through the waters nine days long. Ye Aśvins wrought his rescue with your steadfast power.

Ye brought Atri forth from out the dark and sunless pit, when there he lay in deepest gloom, removed from all the light. Ye bore him up as fathers bear a child in arms.

And Rebha, whom ye saved from fiends who held him bound—his very bones had grown but thin from hunger long suppressed—to him ye gave both breath and bloom, and treasure unto his heart.

These are the deeds of glory told throughout the world: how ye restored the blind man's sight, gave vigor back to them that were made weak and worn. What god hath wrought such wonders with more charitable hand?

Ye bring the honey sweet to them that come to you, ye grant the precious gifts, the wealth, the golden beams. In every realm, O Aśvins, men do sing your praise.

The hero's horse that falleth in the rocky place, ye lift him up again, both steed and rider both. Ye are the lords of rescue, ever swift to aid.

O wide-eyed ones who journey in the golden car, who yoke the steeds of dawn to draw the sun across the sky, come hither to our worship, come to take your share.

The maiden whom no mortal dared to call his bride, to her ye gave both husband and a blessed home. Ye broke the chains that bound her and set free her soul.

And he whose foot was severed in the dreadful fray—the great Viśpala—ye restored him whole again with all his wonted strength and grace, that he might walk the field.

What man is there whose bounty, what god hath ever shown such grace as ye, O Aśvins twain? Ye heal the wounded body, ye restore the lost.

Come then and sit beside us at this soma feast, come share the drink prepared for you, the finest draught. Accept our hymn of honor, O ye lords of morn.

Rejoice with us, O Aśvins, in the sacred rite, and grant unto this people both the gold and kine. Swift-moving ones, ye dwellers in the heart of light, bear us unto the goal of wealth, the place of fame and glory eternal.

For ye do cross the heavens vast as eagles fly, your chariot rideth on the edge of night and day. The mothers of the earth look up unto you both, and all the gods do yield unto your shining power.

O Aśvins of the dawn, ye golden-wheeled divine, we fashion forth this hymn with humble heart and tongue. Accept these words of praise, and grant us all our prayer.

Come ye to drink the soma pressed with labor long, come ye and take your portion at the sacred fire. For you we set apart the choicest of the feast.

As birds that homeward fly to their beloved nest, so do we long to see your golden car draw near. Ye Aśvins twain, be gracious, be our guardians true, and lead us all to riches vast and glory bright.

Ye have but to desire, and all the earth obeys; ye have but to command, and heaven's gates fly wide. O lords of skill and prowess, hear our earnest prayer.

The waters all are flowing, and the dawn is breaking fast, the sacrifice is ready and the soma hath been pressed. Come ye without delay, come ye to take your share.

O Aśvins, grant us offspring, grant us length of days, grant us the highest blessing that the godly gain. Ye lords of all compassion, ye with hearts most kind, accept our humble worship and bestow on us your grace.