Even as this ox, O Asvins, steps and turns together with his mate, So let thy fancy turn itself, come nearer, and unite with me.
I, as the shaft-horse draws the mare beside him, draw thee to myself. Like grass that storm and wind have rent, so be thy mind at- tached to me!
Swiftly from Bhaga's hands I bear away a love-compelling charm Of ointment and of sugar-cane, of Spikenard and the Kushtha plant.
