Father of the Maruts, may your joy come near to us; do not exclude us from seeing the sunlight. May the Hero be gracious to our swift horse, Rudra, and make us transplant into our children.
With the most beneficial medicines you give, Rudra, may I live to see a hundred winters. Banish from us enmity and hatred, and all troubles and diseases.
You are chief among all born, Rudra, armed with thunder, mightiest of the mighty. Transport us over trouble to well-being, and repel all the attacks of mischief from us.
Let us not anger you with worship, Rudra, ill praise, Strong God! Or mixed invocation. With strengthening balms, incite our heroes; I hear you, renowned as the best physician.
May I win your favor with praise-songs, Rudra, who is honored with gifts and invocations. Never may the tawny God, fair-checked, and gracious, gracious, swifthearted, yield us to this evil purpose.
The Strong, surrounded by Maruts, refreshed me with most invigorating food, invoking. As one who finds shade in fervent sunlight, may I, unharmed, win Rudra’s bliss.
Where is that gracious hand of yours, O Rudra, the one that gives health and brings comfort, Remover of the woes that gods send us? O Strong One, look upon me with compassion.
To him the strong, great, tawny, fair-complexioned, I utter forth a mighty hymn of praises. We serve the brilliant God with adorations, we glorify the splendid name of Rudra.
With firm limbs, multiform, the strong, the tawny, adorns himself with bright gold decorations: The strength of Godhead never departs from Rudra, him who is Sovereign of this world, the mighty.
Worthy, you carry your bow and arrows, worthy, your manyhued and honoured necklace. Worthy, you cut here each fiend to pieces: no one is mightier than you, Rudra.
Praise him the chariot-borne, the young, the famous, fierce, slaying like a dread beast of the forest. O Rudra, praised, be gracious to the singer. Let your hosts spare us and strike down another.
I bend to you as