See, Vena, born in light, drove hither on the air chariot the calves of Pṛśni. Singers with hymns caress him as an infant there where the waters and the sunlight mingle.
Vena draws up his wave from out the ocean. Mist-born, the fair one’s back is made apparent, Brightly he shone aloft on Order’s summit: the hosts sang glory to their common birthplace.
Many, lowing to their joint possession, stood together the Darling’s Mothers. Ascending to the lofty height of Order, the bands of singers sip the sweets of Amṛta.
Knowing his form, the sages yearned to meet him: they have come nigh to hear the wild Bull’s bellow. Performing sacrifice they reached the river: for the Gandharva found the immortal waters.
The Apsaras, the Lady, sweetly smiling, supports her Lover in sublimest heaven. In his Friend’s dwelling as a Friend he wanders: he, Vena, rests him on his golden pinion.
They gaze on thee with longing in their spirit, as on a strong-winged bird that mounts sky-ward; On thee with wings of gold, Varuṇa’s envoy, the Bird that hasteneth to the home of Yama.
Erect, to heaven hath the Gandharva mounted, pointing at us his many-coloured weapons; Clad in sweet raiment beautiful to look on, for he, as light, produces forms that please us.
When as a spark he cometh near the ocean, still looking with a vulture’s eye to heaven, His lustre, joying in its own bright splendour, maketh dear glories in the lowest region.