Book 4 >> HYMN 43 - Asvins

क उ शरवत कतमो यज्ञियानां वन्दारु देवः कतमो जुषाते |
कस्येमां देवीम अम्र्तेषु परेष्ठां हर्दि शरेषाम सुष्टुतिं सुहव्याम
English:- . WHO will hear, who of those who merit worship, which of all Gods take pleasure in our homage?
On whose heart shall we lay this laud celestial, rich with fair offerings, dearest to Immortals?

को मर्ळाति कतम आगमिष्ठो देवानाम उ कतमः शम्भविष्ठः |
रथं कम आहुर दरवदश्वम आशुं यं सूर्यस्य दुहिताव्र्णीत
English:- Who will be gracious? Who will come most quickly of all the Gods? Who will
bring bliss most largely?
What car do they call swift with rapid coursers? That which the Daughter of the Sun elected.

मक्षू हि षमा गछथ ईवतो दयून इन्द्रो न शक्तिम परितक्म्यायाम |
दिव आजाता दिव्या सुपर्णा कया शचीनाम भवथः शचिष्ठा
English:- So many days do ye come swiftly hither, as Indra to give help in stress of battle.
Descended from the sky, divine, strong-pinioned, by which of all your powers are ye most mighty?

का वाम भूद उपमातिः कया न आश्विना गमथो हूयमाना |
को वाम महश चित तयजसो अभीक उरुष्यतम माध्वी दस्रा न ऊती
English:- What is the prayer that we should bring you, Aśvins, whereby ye come to us when invocated?
Whether of you confronts e'en great betrayal? Lovers of sweetness, Dasras, help and save us.

उरु वां रथः परि नक्षति दयाम आ यत समुद्राद अभि वर्तते वाम |
मध्वा माध्वी मधु वाम परुषायन यत सीं वाम पर्क्षो भुरजन्त पक्वाः
English:- In the wide space your chariot reacheth heaven, what time it turneth hither from the ocean.
Sweets from your sweet shall drop, lovers of sweetness! These have they dressed for you as dainty viands.

सिन्धुर ह वां रसया सिञ्चद अश्वान घर्णा वयो ऽरुषासः परि गमन |
तद ऊ षु वाम अजिरं चेति यानं येन पती भवथः सूर्यायाः
English:- Let Sindhu with his wave bedew your horses: in fiery glow have the red birds come hither.
Observed of all was that your rapid going, whereby ye were the Lords of Sūrya's Daughter.

इहेह यद वां समना पप्र्क्षे सेयम अस्मे सुमतिर वाजरत्ना |
उरुष्यतं जरितारं युवं ह शरितः कामो नासत्या युवद्रिक
English:- Whene'er I gratified you here together, your grace was given us, O ye rich in booty.
Protect, ye Twain, the singer of your praises: to you, Nāsatyas, is my wish directed.