The ten sister-threads, grown mighty in one accord—the keen conceits of the All-wise, fleet as coursers—have deftly tended thee. The tawny child of the Sun sped swift around the filtering wool, and, like a champion steed, won the oaken cup for prize.

As a calf bellows with its mothers, the Bull of boundless boons hath raced beside the waters. So doth a fervent youth hasten to his tryst, and he meets the ruddy kine within the foaming vat.

Behold, the udder of the inviolate Cow swelleth full; bright wisdom’s drop is borne upon streaming floods. The cattle bathe his brow with milk in shining bowls, as folk set forth fresh-washed treasure.

Self-cleansing drop, lift up thy bellow; with the gods unearth for us rich hoards of steeds. Let Lady Plenitude speed hither on her car, eager to bestow her gifts.

While thou art strained, measure out for us glittering wealth, thronged with noble men and wooed by the wandering wind. The minstrel’s days are lengthened, O radiant drop; at earliest dawn—aye, swiftly—draw nigh with wisdom-laden bounty.