BRINGING our homage we have come to one magnificent in look. Glorified of the mighty Gods
To Asamati, spring of gifts, lord of the brave, a radiant car, The conqueror of Bhajeratha
Who, when the spear hath armed his hand, or even weaponless o’erthrows Men strong as buffaloes in fight;
Him in whose service flourishes Iksvaku, rich and dazzling-bright. As the Five Tribes that are in heaven.
Indra, support the princely power of Rathaprosthas matched by none, Even as the Sun for all to see.
Thou for Agastya's sister's sons yokest thy pair of ruddy steeds. Thou troddest niggards under foot, all those, O King, who brought no gifts.
This is the mother, this the sire, this one hath come to be thy life. What brings thee forth is even this. Now come, Subandhu, get thee forth.
As with the leather thong they bind the chariot yoke to hold it fast, So have I held thy spirit fast, held it for life and not for death, held it for thy security.
Even as this earth, the mighty earth, holds fast the monarchs of the wood. So have I held thy spirit fast, held it for life and not for death, held it for thy security.
Subandlin's spirit I have brought from Yarna, from Vivasvān's Son, Brought it for life and not for death, yea, brought it for security.
The wind blows downward from on high, downward the Sun-God sends his heat, Downward the milch-cow pours her milk: so downward go thy pain and grief.
Felicitous is this mine hand, yet more felicitous is this. This hand contains all healing balms, and this makes whole with gentle touch.
