HIS bright rays bear him up aloft, the God who knoweth all that lives, Sūrya, that all may look on him.
The constellations pass away, like thieves, together with their beams, Before the all-beholding Sun.
His herald rays are seen afar refulgent o’er the world of men, Like flames of fire that burn and blaze.
Swift and all beautiful art thou, O Sūrya, maker of the light, Illuming all the radiant realm.
Thou goest to the hosts of Gods, thou comest hither to mankind, Hither all light to be beheld.
With that same eye of thine wherewith thou lookest brilliant Varuṇa, Upon the busy race of men,
Traversing sky and wide mid-air, thou metest with thy beams our days, Sun, seeing all things that have birth.
Seven Bay Steeds harnessed to thy car bear thee, O thou farseeing One, God, Sūrya, with the radiant hair.
Sūrya hath yoked the pure bright Seven, the daughters of the car; with these, His own dear team, he goeth forth.
Looking upon the loftier light above the darkness we have come To Sūrya, God among the Gods, the light that is most excellent.
Rising this day, O rich in friends, ascending to the loftier heaven, Sūrya remove my heart's disease, take from me this my yellow hue.
To parrots and to starlings let us give away my yellowness, Or this my yellowness let us transfer to Haritāla trees.
With all his conquering vigour this Āditya hath gone up on high, Giving my foe into mine hand: let me not be my foeman's prey.
