Shedding her light on human habitations this 
Child of Heaven hath called us from our slumber;
She who at night-time with her argent lustre 
hath shown herself e’en through the shades of darkness.

All this with red-rayed steeds have they divided: 
the Dawns on bright cars shine in wondrous fashion.
They, bringing near the stately rite's commencement, 
drive far away the night's surrounding shadows.

Dawns, bringing hither, to the man who worships, 
glory and power and might and food and vigour,
Opulent, with imperial sway like heroes, 
favour your servant and this day enrich him.

Now is there treasure for the man who serves you, 
now for the hero, Dawns! who brings oblation;
Now for the singer when he sings the praise-song. 
Even to one like me ye brought aforetime.

O Dawn who standest on the mountain ridges, 
Aṅgirases now praise thy stalls of cattle.
With prayer and holy hymn they burst them open: 
the heroes' calling on the Gods was fruitful.

Shine on us as of old, thou Child of Heaven, on him, 
rich Maid! who serves like Bharadvāja.
Give to the singer wealth with noble heroes, 
and upon us bestow wide-spreading glory.