This is the call. Arrive promptly, wise ones. Here’s the chariot pulled by strong horses: be joyful. Heart-stirring, longed-for, helpers of Viśpalā, here are Heaven’s sons whose blessing benefits the pious.
Longed-for, most like Indra, mighty, most like Maruts, most wonderful in deeds, car-borne, best charioteers, Bring your full chariot laden with sweet liquid here: there, O Aśvins, come to him who offers gifts.
What do you do there, mighty ones? Why do you linger with those who, not offering, are held in high regard? Pass over them; let the miserly life decay: give light to the eloquent singer praising you.
Crunch up around us every dog barking at us: slay our foes, O Aśvins, this you know. Make wealth for every word of him who praises you: accept with favour, both Nāsatyas, this my praise.
You made for Tugra’s son among the water-floods that animated his ship with wings to fly with it, Whereon with a devoted heart you brought him forth, and flew away with ease from the mighty surge.
Four ships most welcome in the middle of the ocean, urged by the Aśvins, save the son of Tugra, Who was hurled headlong into the waters, plunged into the thick, inevitable darkness.
What tree was that which stood fixed in the surrounding sea to which Tugra’s son clinging supplicated? Like twigs, which some winged creature might grasp, ye, Aśvins, bore him safely to your fame.
Welcome to you be this the hymn of praises uttered by Mānas, O Nāsatyas, Heroes, From this our gathering where we offer Soma. May we find strengthening food in full abundance.