Come, O ye Nāsatyas, swift-moving on your paths—come to the pressing, as the hawk descendeth to the call. Bring ye the treasure, for ye know the pathways all; bring forth the healing, ye twin lords of remedy.

Ye who have sped through heaven and over all the earth—ye whose swift steeds draw that wondrous chariot near—we call upon you both, ye Aśvins, with the song, come ye to hear the singer at the sacrifice.

Ye who have rescued Bhujyu, drowning in the sea, when the great waves did rise and swallow him beneath—ye who brought him up, that hero, from the deep—come now and aid the singer in his hour of need.

Ye who have made the aged Cyavāna young again, restoring him when he was worn with creeping age—ye who did give him back his youth and strength renewed—come hither now with gifts for him who presses forth the song.

Ye who have given sight to him that could not see, opening the blind man's eyes that he might gaze upon the light—ye twin lords of the morning, dwelling in the sky—come to our offering and drink the sacred draught.

As bees do haste unto the honeycomb's sweet cell, so do ye hasten to the drink that we have pressed. Come, O ye Aśvins, whom no toil doth tire; come to the soma at the breaking forth of dawn.

The honey, O ye Aśvins, floweth from your hands; ye bring forth healing salve and all good gifts beside. Come swift as thought, come like the wind upon its course; come to the singer's call, ye lords of remedy.

With honey do ye anoint the sore and wounded limb; with strength do ye restore the one that was made weak. O ye whose chariot rolleth light upon the earth—come now to drink, O Aśvins, at the pressing-time.

Let me glorify with all my utterance that deed when ye did cure the grievous wound of Ṛjrāśva—when ye drew forth the golden cup from out the deep, and bade the blind man see once more the blessed light.

The dawn hath broken; now the sun doth climb the sky; the singers raise their voices, and the priests await your coming. Come, O ye swift-horsed Aśvins, come to us with strength—come to the offering that the faithful make.

With wide-flung gifts ye move through the celestial air; your chariot flyeth onward, drawn by noble steeds. Ye come before the sun doth break upon the world—come ye to the soma that we pour for you.

O ye Nāsatyas, givers of all good, preservers of the righteous in their hour of need—ye who have rescued many from the grip of death—come now and hear the singer's supplication sung.

We pour for you the draught of soma, fresh and sweet, as was the custom of the fathers long of old. Accept this offering, O ye lords of might, and let your favour rest upon us evermore.

Ye have a thousand gifts within your treasure-house; ye guard the wealth that maketh a man great. Grant us, O Aśvins, riches that shall not decay—grant us the blessing that doth grow with passing years.

The pressers call; the stones do ring with sacred sound; the soma flows like water from its native spring. Come, O ye swift-moving lords, come to the feast; come and be glad with us, O Aśvins, at the dawn.

The fires are kindled and the priests are set in place; the ritual-words are uttered and the song is raised. Come, O ye twin deities, from your lofty realm—come to the pressing, and accept what we have made.

Ye come before the sun; ye come before the wind; ye know the pathways that the birds do fly upon. O Aśvins, twin lords of the heavens—come now swiftly to the soma and the song.

Grant us the blessing of abundance and of health; grant us long life and riches manifold. Be ye our guardians in the perils that await; be ye our refuge when the darkness gathers round.

O ye whose chariot is wrought of gold and light, whose steeds are swift and never tire upon their course—come now and take the soma that the priests have pressed, and turn your blessing to the one who singeth here.

The soma riseth, calling to you in the dawn; the singers raise their voices in a hymn of praise. Come, O ye Aśvins, swift as thought, swift as the wind—come to the pressing and be satisfied.

Like the sun's glory spreading over all the world, so spreads the fame of ye, O Nāsatyas, far and wide. Accept this offering; be gracious to your praisers; and may we evermore bask in your favour's light.