Vena comes, born of light;
He drives the many-colour’d clouds onward.
Here, where the sunlight and the waters mingle,
Our songs float up and caress the new-born infant.

The child of cloud and mist appeareth on the ridge of the sky.
He shines on the summit of creation.
The hosts proclaim the glory of our common Father.

He hath come to the bosom of his beloved.
Smiling on him
She beareth him to highest heav’n.
With yearning heart
On thee we gaze, O gold-wing’d messenger of mighty gods.

Wise men see him in their libations
As the sacrifice mounts to the eternal heights, mingling with
   our solemn chant;
He stands erect in highest heav’n.
Clad in noble raiment, arm’d with shining weapons,
Hurling light to the farthest region,
Rejoicing in his radiant splendour.