THE warrior's look is like a thunderous rain-cloud's, when, armed with mail, he seeks the lap of battle. Be thou victorious with unwounded body: so let the thickness of thy mail protect thee.
With Bow let us win kine, with Bow the battle, with Bow be victors in our hot encounters. The Bow brings grief and sorrow to the foeman: armed with the Bow may we subdue all regions.
Close to his car, as fain to speak, She presses, holding her well-loved Friend in her embraces. Strained on the Bow, She whispers like a woman-this Bowstring that preserves us in the combat.
These, meeting like a woman and her lover, bear, mother-like, their child upon their bosom. May the two Bow-ends, starting swift asunder, scatter, in unison, the foes who hate us.
With many a son, father of many daughters, He clangs and clashes as he goes to battle. Slung on the back, pouring his brood, the Quiver vanquishes all opposing bands and armies.
Upstanding in the Car the skilful Charioteer guides his strong Horses on whithersoe’er he will. See and admire the strength of those controlling Reins which from behind declare the will of him who drives.
Horses whose hoofs rain dust are neighing loudly, yoked to the Chariots, showing forth their vigour, With their forefeet descending on the foemen, they, never flinching, trample and destroy them.
Car-bearer is the name of his oblation, whercon are laid his Weapons and his Armour. So let us here, each day that passes, honour the helpful Car with hearts exceeding joyful.
In sweet association lived the fathers who gave us life, profound and strong in trouble, Unwearied, armed with shafts and wondrous weapons, free, real heroes, conquerors of armies.
The Brahmans, and the Fathers meet for Soma-draughts, and, graciously inclined, unequalled Heaven and Earth. Guard us trom evil, Pūṣan, guard us strengtheners of Law: let not the evil-wisher master us.
Her tooth a deer, dressed in an eagle's feathers, bound with cow-hide, launched forth, She flieth onward. There where the heroes speed hither and thither, there may the Arrows shelter and protect us.
It compasses the arm with serpent windings, fending away the friction of the bowstring: So may the Brace, well-skilled in all its duties, guard manfully the man from every quarter.
There where the flights of Arrows fall like boys whose locks are yet unshorn. Even there may Brahmaṇaspati, and Aditi protect us well, protect us well through all our days.
Thy vital parts I cover with thine Armour: with immortality King Soma clothe thee. Varuṇa give thee what is more than ample, and in thy triumph may the Gods be joyful.