LIKE the Sun's glance, like wealth of varied sort, like breath which is the life, like one's own son, Like a swift bird, a cow who yields her milk, pure and refulgent to the wood he speeds.
He offers safety like a pleasant home, like ripened corn, the Conqueror of men. Like a Seer lauding, famed among the folk; like a steed friendly he vouchsafes us power.
With flame insatiate, like eternal might; caring for each one like a dame at home; Bright when he shines forth, whitish mid the folk, like a car, gold-decked, thundering to the fight.
He strikes with terror like a dart shot forth, e’en like an archer's arrow tipped with flame; Master of present and of future life, the maidens’ lover and the matrons’ Lord.
To him lead all your ways: may we attain the kindled God as cows their home at eve. He drives the flames below as floods their swell: the rays rise up to the fair place of heaven.
