Thee, then, O Pūṣan, like a swift one on his way, I urge with lauds that thou mayst make the foemen flee, drive, camel-like, our foes afar. 
 As I, a man, call thee, a God, giver of bliss, to be my Friend, 
 So make our loudly-chanted praises glorious, in battles make them glorious.