Guardians of order, you who uphold the highest laws, in the loftiest heaven your chariots you ascend. O Mitra-Varuṇa, favor this one, and let the sweet rain descend from heaven for him.
You rule the empire's kings, O Mitra-Varuṇa, in holy council, seeing the light. We pray for rain, your blessing, and immortality. The thunderers travel across the sky and earth.
Empire's kings, strong, heroes, lords of earth and sky, Mitra and Varuṇa, ever active ones, You wait on thunder with many-colored clouds, and by Asura’s magic power make Heaven rain.
Your magic, Mitra-Varuṇa, rests in the heavens. The Sun, the wonder weapon, comes forth as light. You hide him in the sky with clouds and floods of rain, and Parjanya, full of sweetness, pours drops.
Maruts yoke their swift chariot for victory, O Mitra-Varuṇa, as a hero in the wars. The thunderers roam through varied regions. Empire's kings, drench us with the milk of Heaven.
Your voice is refreshing, O Mitra-Varuṇa: Parjanya sends out a mighty, wonderful voice. With magic power, the Maruts clothe themselves with clouds. You two cause Heaven to rain, the red, the spotless One.
Wise, with your law and through Asura’s magic power, you protect the ordinances, Mitra-Varuṇa. You govern all the world with eternal order. You set the Sun in heaven as a radiant chariot.