Like sprinkling treasure from clouds, so do the wise man’s generous offerings pour forth. I praise their company, which deserves worship as the good Martis’ priest to honor them.
The young have adorned themselves for glory over many nights—this noble band of Maruts. Like stags, the Sons of Dyati have pressed forward, the Sons of Aditi grown strong like pillars.
Those who extend beyond the earth and sky, by their own mass, like Surya spreading from the cloud, Like mighty heroes covetous of glory, like heavenly gallants who destroy the wicked.
When you draw near, as in the depths of water, the earth loosens and shakes, as if it were. This your all-sustaining sacrifice approaches; come all together, laden with provisions.
You are like horses tied to the chariot poles, radiant with your beams, with splendor as at dawn; Like self-luminous falcons, punishers of wicked men, like hovering birds urged forward, scattering rain around.
When you emerge, O Maruts, from the distance, from the treasury of rich possessions vast, Knowing, O Vasus, the boons that should be granted, even from afar drive back the men who hate us.
He who, in the rite’s final duty, brings, as a man, oblation to the Maruts, Wins life’s wealth, blessed with heroes; he shall be present, too, where gods drink Soma.
For these are adored helps at sacrifices, bringing good fortune by their name Ādityas. May they speed on their cars to protect our praises, delighting in our sacrifice and worship.