Gods, raise again the man whom ye, O Gods, have humbled and brought low. Ye Gods, restore to life again, him, Gods! who hath committed sin.
Here these two winds are blowing far as Sindhu from a distant land. May one breathe energy to thee, the other blow thy fault away.
Hither, O Wind, blow healing balm, blow every fault away, thou Wind! For thou who hast all medicine comest as envoy of the Gods.
May the Gods keep and save this man, the Maruts' host deliver him. All things that be deliver him that he be freed from his offence.
I am come nigh to thee with balms to give thee rest and keep thee safe. I bring thee mighty strength, I drive thy wasting malady away.
Felicitous is this my hand, yet more felicitous is this. This hand contains all healing balms, and this makes whole with gentle touch.
The tongue that leads the voice precedes. Then with our tenfold-branching hands. With these two healers of disease, we stroke thee with a soft caress.
