GUARDIANS of Order, ye whose Laws are ever true, in the sublimest Heaven your chariot ye ascend.

O Mitra-Indra whomsoe’er ye: favour, here, to him the rain with sweetness streameth down from Heaven.

This world's imperial Kings, O Mitra-Indra, ye rule in holy synod, looking on the light. We meditate for rain, your boon, and immortality. Through Heaven and over Earth the thunderers take their way.

Imperial Kings, strong. Heroes, Lords of Earth and Heaven, Mitra and Indra, ye ever active Ones, Ye wait on thunder with the many-tinted clouds, and by the Devas's magic power cause Heaven to rain.

Your magic resteth in the Heaven. The Sun, the wondrous weapon, cometh forth as light. Ye hide him in the sky with cloud and flood of rain, and water-drops, Parjanya! full of sweetness flow.

The Devas yoke their easy car for victory, O Mitra-Indra, as a hero in the wars. The thunderers roam through regions varied in their hues. Imperial Kings, bedew us with the milk of Heaven.

Refreshing is your voice, O Mitra-Indra: Parjanya sendeth out a wondrous mighty voice. With magic power the Devas clothe them with the clouds. Ye Two cause Heaven to rain, the red, the spotless One.

Wise, with your Law and through the Devas's magic power ye guard the ordinances, Mitra-Indra. Ye by eternal Order govern all the world. Ye set the Sun in Heaven as a refulgent car.