To Rudra bring these songs, whose bow is strong and steady, the self-dependent God with swift arrows,
The Wise One, the Conqueror who none can defeat, armed with sharp weapons: may he hear our call.
He through his lordship thinks on beings of the earth, on heavenly beings through his high imperial rule.
Come willingly to our doors that warmly welcome you, and cure all illness, Rudra, in our homes.
May your bright arrow, shot from heaven, fly upon the earth and spare us unharmed.
You, very kind God, have thousands of remedies: do not harm our sons or offspring.
Do not slay us, nor cast us away, O Rudra, let not your noose, when angry, take us.
Give us lush grass and renown among the living. Preserve us always, ye Gods, with blessings.