Half of the day is dark, and half is bright; both move along through wise devices. Agni Vaiśvānara, born as king, has shone over the darkness.
I do not know the pattern or the weave, nor the web they make as they move in their contest. Who will here speak words that need no help from the Father nearby?
Both the pattern and the weave he understands, and at the right time will speak what needs to be said. Who knows the immortal world’s protector, coming down, seeing without aid from others?
He is the priest, the first of all: behold him. Among all flying things, he is the immortality.
A steady light has been set for men to see: among all flying things, the mind moves fastest. All gods move together, with one intention, to a single purpose.
My ears open to hear, my eyes to see him; the light within me grows wide and vast. My mind wanders far, its thoughts in the distance. What shall I say, what shall I imagine next?
All the gods bend in fear before you, Agni, when you dwell in darkness. Be gracious, Vaiśvānara, to help us. May the immortal protect us and aid us.