1Through the fine fingers, with the song, this hero comes with rapid cars, Going to Indra's settled place.

2In holy thought he ponders much for the great service of theGods, Where the immortals have their seat.

3Men beautify him in the vats, him worthy to be beautified, Him who brings forth abundant food.

4He is deposited and led along the consecrated path When zealous men are urging him,

5He moves, a vigorous steed, adorned with beauteous rays of shining gold, He who is Sovran of the streams.

6He brandishes his horns on high, and whets them, bull who leads the herd, Doing with might heroic deeds.

7He, over places rough to pass bringing rich treasures, closely pressed. Descends into the reservoirs.

8Him, even him the golden-hued, well armed, best giver of delight, Ten fingers urge to run his course.