THESE songs of mine go forth as lauds of Agni, the Fire-disposing Sage, Whose worshipper is never overthrown.
WISE Agni Jātavedas, I beget a song of praise for you. You gladly receive it.
Your sharp flames, O Agni, like the gleams of light that glitter through, Devour the forests with your teeth.
Golden, bannered with smoke, urged by the wind, rising high to heaven, Rise lightly borne, the flames of fire.
These lightly ignited fiery flames are all around made visible, Even as the harvest of the Dawn.
As Jātavedas strides ahead, the dust beneath his feet is black, When Agni spreads across the earth.
Making the plants your sustenance, Agni consumes and tires not, Seeking tender shrubs again.
Bent down by all your tongues, you flicker with your fiery glow, Splendid is Agni in the woods.
Agni, your home is in the floods; you force your way into the plants, And as their child are born anew.
Worshipped with offerings, your flame, O Agni, shines from the sacred oil, Kissed on the ladle’s mouth.
Let us serve Agni with our hymns, Disposer, fed on ox and cow, Who bears the Soma on his back.
Yes, you, O Agni, we seek with homage and fuel, Priest Whose wisdom is most excellent.
O Agni, worshipped with oblations, pure, we call on you as erst, Did Bhṛgu, Manus, Aṅgiras.
For you, O Agni, by the fire, Sage by the Sage, Good by the Good, Friend by the Friend, are lighted up.
So wealth in thousands, food with store of heroes give you to the sage, O Agni, to the worshipper.
O Agni, Brother, made by strength, Lord of red steeds and brilliant sway, Take pleasure in this laud of mine.
My praises, Agni, go to you, as the cows seek the stall to meet, The lowing calf that longs for milk.
Agni, best Aṅgiras, to you all people who have pleasant homes, Apart, turn as to their wish