Spread is your purifying filter, Brahmaṇaspati: as Prince, you enter its limbs from every side. The uncooked, whose mass has not been heated, do not gain this; only those dressed, bearing, attain it.
High in the seat of heaven is spread the Scorching sieve: its threads stand separate, shining with light. The Swift Ones favor him who purifies this: with awareness they stand on the height of heaven.
The foremost spotted Cow has made the Days shine bright, and yearning for strength sustains all that be. By your great wisdom, mighty sages have worked: the Fathers who see mankind laid down the seed,
Gandharva indeed protects his dwelling place; Wondrous, he guards the generations of the Devas. Lord of the trap, he catches the foe with the trap: those most devout have gained a share of meath.
Rich in offerings! Clothed in cloud, you pass over offering, sacrifice, the mighty seat of Devas. King, on your chariot-sieve you go to war, and with a thousand weapons win lofty fame.