Like Aṅgirases, we ponder a joyful hymn to the mighty singer who loves song. Let us sing glory to the renowned Hero, praised with fair songs by the singer.
Bring great adoration to the great, a chant with praise to the mighty one. Through him, our ancestors, Aṅgirases, sang praises and knew well the places, found the cattle.
When Indra and the Aṅgirases desired it, Saramā found sustenance for her offspring. Bṛhaspati split the mountain, found the cattle: the heroes shouted with the kine in triumph.
Amidst shouts, loud shouts, and roars, with the Navagvas, seven singers, you rent the mountain; With speeders, with Daśagvas, Indra, Śakra, with thunder, you rent obstructive Vala.
Praised by Aṅgirases, you, foe-destroyer, with the Dawn, Sun, rays, dispelled the darkness. You, Indra, spread out the earth's high ridges, and firmly fixed the region under heaven.
This is the deed most worthy of all honor, the fairest marvel of the Wonder-Worker, That, near where heaven bends down, he made four rivers flow full with waves that carry down sweet water.
Unwearying, won with lauding hymns, he parted of old the ancient Pair, united ever. In highest sky like Bhaga, he set both Dames and earth and heaven, as Bhaga did.
Still born afresh, young Dames, each in her manner, unlike in hue, the Pair in alternation Round heaven and earth from ancient time have traveled, Night with her dark limbs, Dawn with limbs of splendor.
Rich in good actions, skilled in operation, the Son with might maintains his perfect friendship. You, in the raw cows, black of hue or ruddy, store the ripe milk, glossy white in color.
Their paths, of old connected, rest uninjured; they with great might preserve the immortal statutes. For many thousands of holy works, the Sisters wait on the haughty Lord like wives and matrons.
Thoughts ancient, seeking wealth, with adoration, with newest lauds, sped to thee, O Mighty. As yearning wives cleave to their yearning husband, so cleave our hymns to thee, O