The kine have come and brought good fortune: let them rest in
the cow-pen and be happy near us.
Here let them stay prolific, many-coloured, and yield through
many morns their milk for Indra.
Indra aids him who offers sacrifice and praise: he takes not what
is his, and gives him more thereto.
Increasing ever more and ever more his wealth, he makes the
pious dwell within unbroken bounds.
These are ne'er lost, no robber ever injures them: no evil-minded
foe attempts to harass them.
The master of the kine lives a long life with these, the Cows
whereby he pours his gifts and serves the Gods.
The charger with his dusty brow o'ertakes them not, and never
to the shambles do they take their way.
These Cows, the cattle of the pious worshipper, roam over wide-
spread pasture where no danger is.
To me the Cows seem Bhaga, they seem Indra, they seem a
portion of the first poured Soma.
These present Cows, they, O ye men, are Indra. I long for Indra
with my heart and spirit.
O Cows, ye fatten e'en the worn and wasted, and make the
unlovely beautiful to look on.
Prosper my home, ye with auspicious voices! Your power is
magnified in our assemblies.
In goodly pasturage, bright-hued, prolific, drinking pure water at
fair drinking-places,
Never be thief or sinful man your master, and may the dart of
Rudra still avoid you!
