Sing a sublime and solemn hymn, grateful to glorious Varuṇa, the imperial ruler, Who has struck out, like one who slays the victim, spreading earth as a skin before Surya.
In the treetops, he extends the air; he puts milk in cows and vigor in horses; He sets intellect in hearts, fire in waters, Surya in heaven, and Soma on the mountain.
Varuṇa lets the big cask, flowing downward, through heaven, earth, and air’s mid-region. With it, he drenches the universe’s sovereign waters, which drench the barley like a shower.
When Varuṇa desires milk, he moistens the sky, the land, and earth to its foundation. Then the mountains clothe themselves in rain-clouds; heroes, putting forth their strength, release them.
I will declare this mighty magical deed of Varuṇa, the immortal lord, Who, standing in the firmament, measures the earth with the Sun as with a measure.
No one ever lets or hinders this wise God’s mighty magical deed, By which the luminous rivers, with their fullness, do not fill one sea where they pour their waters.
If we have sinned against the one who loves us, wronged a brother, friend, or comrade, The neighbor ever by our side, or a stranger, O Varuṇa, remove from us the trespass.
If we, as gamblers cheat at play, have cheated, done wrong unwittingly or with purpose, Cast all these sins away like loosened fetters, and, Varuṇa, let us be your own beloved.