I LAUD with newest songs the Righteous People, Mitra and Indra who make us happy.
Let them approach, here let them listen,Agni, Indra, Mitra, Lords of fair dominion.
Him, to be praised at each tribe's offers, the Two young Matrons' sober-minded Herald, the Son of Strength, the Child of Heaven, the signal of offering, red Agni will I worship.
Unlike in form are the Red Deva's two Daughters: one is the Sun's, and stars bedeck the other. Apart, the Sanctifiers, in succession, come to the famed hymn, praised in holy verses.
I with a lofty song call hither Soma, all-bounteous, filler of his car, most wealthy. Thou, Sage, with bright path, Lord of harnessed horses, impetuous, promptly honourest the prudent.
That chariot of the Indra, fair to look on, pleaseth me well, yoked with a thought, refulgent, Wherewith, Nāsatyas, Chiefs, ye seek our dwelling, to give new strength to us and to our children.
Bulls of the Earth, O Vāta and Parjanya, stir up for us the regions of the water. Hearers of truth, ye, Sages, World-Supporters, increase his living wealth whose songs delight you.
May Sarasvatī, the Hero's Consort, brisk with rare life, the lightning's Child, inspire us, and, with the Dames accordant, give the singer a refuge unassailable and flawless.
I praise with eloquence him who guards all pathways. He, when his love impelled him, went to Arka. May he vouchsafe us gear with gold to grace it. May Pūṣan make each prayer of ours efective.
May Herald Agni, fulgent, bring for worship Tvaṣṭar adored, in homes and swift to listen, Glorious, first to share, the life-bestower, the ever active Deva, fair-armed, fair-handed.
Soma by day, Soma at night we honour with these our songs, the Universe's Father. Him great and lofty, blissful, undecaying let us call specially as the Sage impels us.
Ye who are youthful, wise, and meet for worship, come, Martits, to the longing of the singer. Coming, as erst to Aṅgiras, O Heroes, ye animate and quicken e’en the desert.
Even as the herdsman driveth home his cattle, I urge my songs to him the strong swift Hero May he, the glorious, lay upon his body the singer's hymns, as stars bedeck the Heaven.
He who for man's behoof in his afiliction thrice measured out the earthly regions, Indra- When one so great as thou affordeth shelter. May we with wealth and with ourselves be happy.
Sweet be this song of mine to Ahibudhnya, Parvata, Indra, with Floods and Lightnings; Sweet, with the Plants, to Devas who seek oblations. May liberal Bhaga speed us on to riches.
Give riches borne on cars, with many heroes, contenting men, the guard of mighty Order. Give us a lasting home that we may battle with godless bands of men who fight against us, and meet with tribes to whom the Devas are gracious.