Agni has looked kindly upon the fruitful spring of radiant mornings. Come, O Aswins, to the home of the pious: Surya the God rises with his glory.
Savitar, God, has spread his light high up, waving his banner like a warrior seeking spoils. Varuṇa and Mitra, established in their ways, when they make the Sun rise into the sky.
Him they made to drive away the darkness, lords of sure abodes, constant to their goal, The Sun-God, seven strong and youthful horses carry him forward.
With your mightiest steeds you come, tearing apart, you God, the dark cloak. The rays of Surya, tremblingly shining, like a hide, sink the darkness into the waters.
How is it that, unbound and unsupported, he doesn’t fall even though directed downward? By what self-power does he move? Who has seen it? He guards the vault of heaven, a tightly set pillar.