Agni, the Bounteous Giver, bright with varied flames, laud thou, O singer Sobhari- Him who controls this sacred food with Soma blent, who hath first claim to sacrifice.
The Son of Strength, the blessed, brightly shining One, Agni whose light is excellent. May be by sacrifice win us in heaven the grace of Mitra, Varuṇa, and the Floods.
Verily swift to run are his fleet-footed steeds, and most resplendent fame is his. No trouble caused by Gods or wrought by mortal man from any side o’ertaketh him.
Agni, who praises like a guest of friendly mind, is as a car that brings us gear. Also in thee is found perfect security thou art the Sovran Lord of wealth.
He for whose sacrifice thou standest up erect is prosperous and rules o’er men. He wins with coursers and with singers killed in song: with heroes he obtains the prize.
His, or the lauding sage's word, his, Son of Strength! who Is most prompt with sacred gifts, Set thou beneath the Gods, Vasu, above mankind, the speech of the intelligent.
The mortal who with blazing fuel, as his laws command, adores the Perfect God, Blest with his thoughts in splendour shall exceed all men, as though he overpassed the floods.
That, wherewith Mitra, Varuṇa, and Aryaman, the Aśvins, Bhaga give us light, That may we, by thy power finding best furtherance, worship, O Indra, helped by thee.
Who have arranged thine altar Blessed God, at morn brought thine oblation, pressed the juice. They by their deeds of strength have won diem, mighty wealth, who have set all their hope in thee.
Show forth the mind that brings success in war with fiends, wherewith thou conquerest in fight. Bring down the many firm hopes of our enemies, and let us vanquish with thine aid.
Thou unto sharp-toothed Agni, Young and Radiant God, proclaimest with thy song the feast- Agni, who for our sweet strains moulds heroic strength when sacred oil is offered him,
The God, the Friend of man, who bears our gifts to heaven, the God with his sweet-smelling mouth, Distributes, skilled in sacrifice, his precious things, Invoking Priest, Immortal God.
I would not give thee up, Vasu, to calumny, or misery, O Bounteous One. My worshipper should feel no hunger or distress, nor, Agni, should he live in sin.
Thy spark is black and crackling, kindled in due time, O Bounteous, it is taken up. Thou art the dear Friend of the mighty Mornings: thou shinest in glimmerings of the night.
O Agni, thou on whom all other fires depend, as branches on the parent stem, I make the treasures of the folk, like songs, mine own, while I exalt thy sovran might.