Your horses glide lightly across the lands as your chariot sails around the ocean's rim. Their golden hooves sprinkle dew; you drink in the sweet nectar, Mornings.
As you ride, catch up with the swift horse, the friend of men, the holiest one. May the sister carry you, all praised, mead drinkers! To support and strengthen us.
You stored the first milk of the cow within the raw cow, presented by the bright offerer, Like a serpent among trees, shining like light, to you, whose form is perfect.
You made the fierce heat sweet for Atri at his will, like flowing water. Your fire offering, O Aśvins, Heroes, your wheels speed to us like honey-springs.
May I, mighty ones, like Tugra's ancient son, bring you to give your gifts with milk-oblations. Your greatness encompasses Earth, Heaven, and Waters; sorrow's net decays for you, holy ones.
When, Bounteous Ones, you drive your yoked team downward, you send understanding by your nature. Swift as the wind, make the prince please and feast you; he, like a devout man, gains strength for growth.
We truthful singers praise you; the niggard is excluded here. Now, O blameless Aśvins, mighty ones, guard the man whose deity is near him.
You, Aśvins, truly every day, that he might win the abundant stream, Agastya, famous among mortal heroes, stirred with a thousand sounds like music.
When you travel with your yoked team, when we race like mortal priests, And give good horses to sacrificers, may we, Nāsatyas, gain our wealth.
With songs of praise, we call today, O Aśvins, for your new chariot, for our well-being, That circles heaven with unbroken fellies. May we find full abundance of nourishment.