BURNING AGNI, mortals offer you, O Agni, worship this divine one. I consider you Jātavedas: carry our offerings, ever unending.
In the home where gifts are given, where grass is trimmed, Agni is the priest, To whom all sacrifices come and strengthenings that win renown.
As a newborn baby, the kindling-sticks have brought to life, Sustainer of the human tribes, skilled in well-ordered sacrifice.
Indeed, you are very hard to grasp, like the offspring of wriggling snakes, When you consume many forests like an ox, Agni, in the meadow.
Whose flames, when you send up the smoke, reach the mark completely, When Tṛta in the height of heaven, like a smelting furnace, stirs you, like a smelting furnace sharpens you.
O Agni, by your aid and Mitra’s friendly support, May we, avoiding hatred, subdue the wickedness of mortal men.
O Agni, bring to our heroes such wealth, you victorious one. May he protect and nourish us, and help in gaining strength: be thou near us in battle for our success.