1These Dawns have raised their banner: in the eastern half of middle air they spread abroad their shining light. Like heroes who prepare their weapons for the fray, the cows are coming on, the mothers, red of hue.

2Rapidly have the ruddy beams of light shot up: the red cows have they harnessed, easy to be yoked. The Dawns have made their pathways as in former times: redhued, they have attained refulgent brilliancy.

3They sing their song like women active in their tasks, along their common path hither from far away, Bringing refreshment to the liberal devotee, yea, all things to the worshipper who pours the juice.