Where is the whiteness of that dust, the great bolt? Where is the storm of Maruts in which you are brought? And what, like rising day, was firmly gathered, O Dṛiṇa, that moved this wide sea?

Where, Maruts, is the limit of the vast region (whence you come); where is the beginning of that to which you proceed; when you scatter the dense vapour like light grass, and hurl down the brilliant rain-cloud by the thunderbolt.

Say where, then, is this mighty region's farthest bound, where, Maruts, is the lowest depth that ye have reached, When ye cast down like chaff the firmly stablished pile, and from the mountain send the glittering water-flood?