THOU, of a truth,O Prthivi, bearest the tool that rends the hills: Thou rich in torrents, who with might quickenest earth, O Mighty One.
To thee, O wanderer at will, ring out the lauds with beams of day, Who drivest, like a neighing steed, the swelling cloud, O bright of hue.
Who graspest with thy might on earth. e’en the strong sovrans of the wood, When from the lightning of thy cloud the rain-floods of the heaven descend.
