Sing to the group that brings down rain together, the Great Assembly of celestial beings. They shake the world halves with their grandeur: from the depths of earth and sky they reach to heaven.
Yes, your birth, Maruts, was with wild commotion, you who move swiftly, fierce in anger, awesome. All-powerful in your might and vigor, every one of you makes those who see your arrival fear.
Grant us ample life force to our rulers; may our beautiful praises please the Maruts. As the path helps people along their journey, so further us with your delightful assistance.
Your favored singer counts his wealth by hundreds: the strong horse you favor wins a thousand. The Sovereign you aid overcomes the enemy. May this gift of yours, you Shakers, be distinguished.
I call them as such, the Sons of generous Rudra: will the Maruts not turn back to us? What secret sin or open acts of anger make us implore the Swift Ones to forgive us.
This praise of the Generous has been spoken: accept, Maruts, this our song of praise. You Bulls, keep those who hate us at a distance. Protect us forever, Gods, with blessings.