Along their paths the Mothers go, sisters of priestly ministrants,
Blending their water with the mead.
May yonder Waters near the Sun, or those wherewith the Sun is joined,
Send forth this sacrifice of ours.
I call the Waters, Goddesses, hitherward where our cattle drink:
The streams must share the sacrifice.
Amrit is in the Waters, in the Waters balm. Yea, through our praises of the Floods, O horses, be ye fleet and
strong, and, O ye kine, be full of strength.
