YE Aśvins, rich in treasure, Lords of splendour, having nimble hands,
Accept the sacrificial food.
Ye Aśvins, rich in wondrous deeds, ye heroes worthy of our praise,
Accept our songs with mighty thought.
Nāsatyas, wonder-workers, yours are these libations with clipt grass:
Come ye whose paths are red with flame.
O Indra marvellously bright, come, these libations long for thee,
Thus by fine fingers purified.
Urged by the holy singer, sped by song, come, Indra, to the prayers,
Of the libation-pouring priest.
Approach, O Indra, hasting thee, Lord of Bay Horses, to the prayers.
In our libation take delight.
Ye Viśvedevas, who protect, reward, and cherish men, approach
Your worshipper's drink-offering.
Ye Viśvedevas, swift at work, come hither quickly to the draught,
As milch-kine hasten to their stalls.
The Viśvedevas, changing shape like serpents, fearless, void of guile,
Bearers, accept the sacred draught
Wealthy in spoil, enriched with hymns, may bright Sarasvatī desire,
With eager love, our sacrifice.
Inciter of all pleasant songs, inspirer of all gracious thought,
Sarasvatī accept our rite
Sarasvatī, the mighty flood,—she with her light illuminates,
She brightens every pious thought.
