Prepare the offering: let him come, and let the servant serve again
Who knows the rites, let the priest sit by the man,
Beside the sprout of active might.
Seek him, brilliant one beyond all thought, among mankind,
With his speech they grasp the food.
He has kindled the two fields; life-giving, he climbs the forest,
And with his speech strikes the rock.
Here wanders the radiant Cow, none to bind him, seeking
The Mother to proclaim his praise.
Now that great and mighty team, the team of horses that are his,
And traces of his chariot, are seen.
Seven milks a single cow yields, the other five set to work,
On the stream’s loud-bursting bank.
Vivasvan’s ten entreat, Indra breaks the water jar
With threefold hammer from the sky.
Three times the newly-born flame goes round the sacrifice:
The priests anoint it with meath.
With reverence they drain the well that circles with its wheel above,
Exhaustless, with the mouth below.
Pressing stones are set to work: meath is poured into the tank,
At the out-shedding of the well.
Cows, protect the well: the two Mighty Ones bless the sacrifice.
Handles of gold are wrought.
Pour on the juice the adornment that reaches both the heaven and earth,
Supply the liquid to the Bull.
These know their own dwelling: like calves beside the mother cows,
They meet together with their kin.
Devouring in their greedy jaws, they make sustaining food in heaven,
To Indra, Agni light and prayer.
The Pious One milked out rich food, sustenance dealt in portions seven,
Together with the Sun’s seven rays.
I took some Soma when the Sun rose up, O Mitra, Varuṇa.
That is the sick man’s medicine.
From where oblations must be laid, which is the Well-beloved’s home,
He with his tongue has compassed heaven.