Madhva, the charioteer of Soma, strove for delight; the hot-offering priest sat upon the left. From the splendid rite came joy and the mountain-born song that came to Nāsatya with the hymns.

Aśvins for your gratification by the plural asant Soma, your ancient worshipper adores you; the offering is poured upon the sacred gras, thehymn is ready (for repetition); come, Nāsatyas, with food and with vigour.

ASVINS, your ancient priest invites you hither to gladden you with draughts of meath of Soma. Our gift is on the grass, our song apportioned: with food and strength come hither, O Nasatyas.