SING forth, O Kaṇvas, to your band of Maruts unassailable, Sporting, resplendent on their car
They who, self-luminous, were born together, with the spotted deer, Spears, swords, and glittering ornaments.
One hears, as though ’twere close at hand, the cracking of the whips they hold They gather glory on their way.
Now sing ye forth the God-given hymn to your exultant Marut host, The fiercely-vigorous, the strong.
Praise ye the Bull among the cows; for ’tis the Maruts’ sportive band: It strengthened as it drank the rain.
Who is your mightiest, Heroes, when, O shakers of the earth and heaven, Ye shake them like a garment's hem?
At your approach man holds him down before the fury of your wrath: The rugged-jointed mountain yields.
They at whose racings forth the earth, like an age-weakened lord of men, Trembles in terror on their ways.
Strong is their birth: vigour have they to issue from their Mother; strength, Yea, even twice enough, is theirs.
And these, the Sons, the Singers, in their racings have enlarged the bounds, So that the kine must walk knee-deep.
Before them, on the ways they go, they drop this offspring of the cloud, Long, broad, and inexhaustible.
O Maruts, as your strength is great, so have ye cast men down on earth, So have ye made the mountains fall.
The while the Maruts pass along, they talk together on the way: Doth any hear them as they speak?
Come quick with swift steeds, for ye have worshippers among Kaṇva's sons May you rejoice among them well.
All is prepared for your delight. We are their servants evermore, To live as long as life may last.
