Thou art the substance of the sacriflee.
The Raksas is burned up, the evil spirits are burned up.
The Vedi hath come to the sacrificial straw,
Made by Manu, fashioned with the Svadha call.
The sages fetch it from in front,
The delightful straw for the gods to sit on here.
Thou art impelled by the gods.
Thou art made to grow by the rains.
O divine straw, lot me not hit thee either across or along,
Let me hit thy joints,
Let me come to no harm in cutting thee.
O divine straw, rise with a hundred shoots,
Let us rise with a thousand shoots.
Guard from the contact of earth.
I gather thee with good gathering.
Thou art the girdle of Aditi, the cord of Indrani.
Let Pusan tie a knot for thee, that knot shall mount me.
I hold thee up with the arms of Indra, I seize thee with the head of Brhaspati.
Fare along the wide atmosphere.
Thou art going to the gods.
