THAT general Car of yours, invoked by many a man, that comes to our libations, three-wheeled, meet for lauds, That circumambient Car, worthy of sacrifice, we call with our pure hymns at earliest flush of dawn.
Ye, O Nāsatyas, mount that early-harnessed Car, that travels early, laden with its freight of balm, Wherewith ye, Heroes, visit clans who sacrifice, even the poor man's worship where the priest attends.
If to the deft Adhvaryu with the meath in hand, or to the Kindler firm in strength, the household friend, Or to the sage's poured libations ye approach, come thence, O Aśvins, now to drink the offered meath.
