Make ready that swift-moving thing with three wheels and a triple seat, you mighty ones, Whereon you seek the home of the pious, whereon, three times, you fly like birds with wings.
The light rolls your easy chariot, carrying the earthward-bound journey, when, for sustenance, you, full of wisdom, ride it. May this song, wondrous fair, attend your glory: as you travel, be there to greet Dawn, Heaven’s Daughter.
Ascend your lightly rolling chariot, to the worshipper who turns to his duties— Whereon you come to the house to quicken man and his offspring, O Nāsatyas, Heroes.
Let not the wolf, let not the she-wolf harm you. Forsake me not, nor pass me by or others. Here stands your share, here is your hymn, you mighty ones: yours are these vessels, full of pleasant juices.
Gotama, Purumīlha, Atri, invoking you for protection, bring all your offerings. Like one who goes straight to the point directed, you Nāsatyas, to my invocation.
We have passed over the limit of this darkness: our praise has been bestowed upon you, O Aśvins. Come hitherward by paths that gods have trod. May we find strengthening food in full abundance.