With Indra and the Rudras, come together in your golden chariot for our prosperity. We bring this hymn as an offering to you, as someone thirsty for water would seek heavenly springs.
Armed with your swords, full of wisdom, with spears, with quivers, and with arrows, with good bows, good horses, and good chariots, O sons of Pṛśni: you, Maruts, with good weapons, go forth to victory.
From hills and heaven, you bring wealth for the worshipper; in fear at your approach, the woods bend low. You make the earth tremble, Sons of Pṛśni, when you have yoked fierce ones! Your spotted deer.
Radiant with the winds' blasts, wrapped in your rain cloaks, like twin noblemen with lovely forms, The Maruts, spotless, with tawny-hued and red steeds, strong in might, spreading wide like heaven.
Rich in adornment, rich in drops, munificent, bright in appearance, yielding bounties that endure, Noble by birth, adorned with gold on their chests, the singers of the sky have won immortal fame.
Borne on both shoulders, O Maruts, are your spears; within your arms lies your energy and strength. Bold thoughts in your minds, your weapons in your chariots, all glorious majesty molded on your forms.
Grant us splendid bounty in cattle and horses, in chariots and heroes, O Maruts, children of Rudra. Give us high distinction, may I enjoy your divine help and favor.
Ho! Maruts, Heroes, skilled in Law, immortal, be gracious to us, rich in treasures, Hearders of the truth, wise and youthful, grown mighty, dwelling on the lofty mountains.