Like birds that guard their nests, splashing in water, like the thunderous roar of rain clouds, Like merry streams bursting from the mountains, so to Bṛhaspati our hymns have sounded.
The Son of Aṅgirases, meeting the cattle, as Bhaga, brought Aryaman among us. As Friend of men he decks the wife and husband; as for the race, Bṛhaspati, nerve our coursers.
Bṛhaspati, having won them from the mountains, scattered down, like barley out of winnowing baskets, The vigorous, wandering cows who aid the pious, desired of all, of blameless form, well-coloured.
As the Sun dews with meath the seat of Order, and casts a flaming meteor down from heaven, So from the rock Bṛhaspati forced the cattle, and cleft the earth's skin as it were with water.
With light he drew the darkness forth from mid air, as the gale blows a lily from the fiver. Like the wind grasping at the cloud of Vala, Bṛhaspati gathered to himself the cattle,
Bṛhaspati, when he with fiery lightnings cleft through the weapon of reviling Vala, Consumed him as tongues cat what teeth have compassed: he threw the prisons of the red cows open.
That secret name borne by the lowing cattle within the cave Bṛhaspati discovered, And drove himself, the bright kine from the mountain, like a bird’s young after the egg’s disclosure.
He looked around on rock-imprisoned sweetness as one who eyes a fish in scanty water. Bṛhaspati, cleaving through with varied clamour, brought it forth like a bowl from out the timber.
He found the light of heaven, and fire, and Morning; with lucid rays he forced apart the darkness. As from a joint, Bṛhaspati took the marrow of Vala as he gloried in his cattle.
As trees for foliage robbed by winter, Vala mourned for the cows Bṛhaspati had taken. He did a deed ne’er done, ne’er to be equalled, whereby the Sun and Moon ascend alternate.
Like a dark steed adorned with pearl, the Fathers have decorated heaven With constellations. They set the light in