Come, be Mitra, Varuṇa, Pūṣa, or Brihaspathi, to my Yajña: With Maruts, Vasus, or Adityas, let Parjanya pour Santanu’s rain.
The God, wise, swift, who you have sent has come to me, Devāpi: Address yourself to me and I will place brilliant speech within your lips.
Within my mouth, Brihaspathi, store speech clear, strong, and unyielding, So that Santanu may win the rain. Heaven’s rich drop enters it.
May sweet drops descend upon us, O Indra: give us enough to fill a thousand chariots. Sit as Hotar, perform the rites, and honor the Gods, Devāpi, with offerings.
As Hotar, Devāpi, wise ṛṣi, son of Rstisena, sat down. He brought down from heaven’s highest peak the ocean of rain, celestial waters.
In that highest ocean, waters gathered by gods, obstructed by Arstisena, Buried by him in gaps, urged on by Devāpi.
As chief priest for Santanu, chosen for Hotar’s duty, Devāpi prayed beseeching, Brihaspathi graciously granted him a voice reaching the Gods and won the waters.
O Agni, Devāpi, Arstisena, the mortal man, kindled in glory, Joying in him with all the Gods together, urge Parjanya, the rain-bringer.
Ancient ṛṣis with their songs approached you, even you, Much-invoked, at sacrifices. We have offered wagon-loads in thousands: come to the solemn rite, Lord of Red Horses.
Offerings of wagon-loads, ninety-nine thousand, have been made to you, O Agni. Hero, with these increase your many bodies, and, stimulated, send rain from heaven.
Give these ninety thousand loads, O Agni, to Indra, the Bull, as his share. Knowing the paths Deities travel, set Aulana also among the Gods in heaven.
O Agni, drive away our foes, chase away illness, and wicked demons. From this air-ocean, from the lofty heavens, send down a mighty flood of water.