YE Gods, Ādityas, Varuṇa, Aryaman, Mitra, verily Have here obtained supremest sway, high, holy, set apart for you.
When, Varuṇa and Mitra, ye sit in your golden dwelling-place, Ye Twain, supporters of mankind, foeslayers, give felicity.
All these, possessors of all wealth, Varuṇa, Mitra, Aryaman, Follow their ways, as if with feet, and guard from injury mortal man.
For they are true, they cleave to Law, held holy among every race, Good leaders, bounteous in their gifts, deliverers even from distress.
Which of your persons, Varuṇa or Mitra, merits not our praise? Therefore our thought is turned to you, the Atris' thought is turned to you.
