Its roar goes crashing and
thundering. It moves touching the sky, and creating red sheens, or it
goes scattering the dust of the earth. Afterwards there rise the gusts
of Vata, they go towards him, like women to a feast. The god goes with
them on the same chariot, he, the king of the whole of this world. When
he moves on his paths along the sky, he rests not even a single day; the
friend of the waters, the first-born, the holy, where was he born,
whence did he spring? The breath of the gods, the germ of the world,
that god moves wherever he listeth; his roars indeed are heard, not his
form--let us offer sacrifice to that Vata!
TO VATA
May Vata waft medicine, healthful, delightful to our heart; may he
prolong our lives! Thou, O Vata, art our father, and our brother, and
our friend; do thou grant us to live! O Vata, from that treasure of the
immortal which is placed in thy house yonder, give us to live!
I
I magnify Agni, the Purohita, the divine ministrant of the sacrifice,
the Hotri priest, the greatest bestower of treasures. Agni, worthy to be
magnified by the ancient Rishis and by the present ones--may he conduct
the gods hither. May one obtain through Agni wealth and welfare day by
day, which may bring glory and high bliss of valiant offspring. Agni,
whatever sacrifice and worship thou encompassest on every side, that
indeed goes to the gods.
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