Rig Veda
yuvo rajāṃsi suyamāso aśvā ratho yad vām pary arṇāṃsi dīyat hiraṇyayā vām pavayaḥ pruṣāyan madhvaḥ pibantā uṣasaḥ sacethe
Lightly your coursers travel through the regions when round the sea of air your car is flying. Your golden fellies scatter drops of moisture: drinking the sweetness ye attend the Mornings.
yuvam atyasyāva nakṣatho yad vipatmano naryasya prayajyoḥ svasā yad vāṃ viśvagūrtī bharāti vājāyeṭṭe madhupāv iṣe ca
Ye as ye travel overtake the Courser who flies apart, the Friend of man, most holy. The prayer is that the Sister may convey you, all praised, meath-drinkers! to support and strengthen.
yuvam paya usriyāyām adhattam pakvam āmāyām ava pūrvyaṃ goḥ antar yad vanino vām ṛtapsū hvāro na śucir yajate haviṣmān
Ye have deposited, matured within her, in the raw cow the first milk of the milch-cow, Which the bright offerer, shining like a serpent mid trees, presents to you whose form is perfect.
yuvaṃ ha gharmam madhumantam atraye 'po na kṣodo 'vṛṇītam eṣe tad vāṃ narāv aśvinā paśvaiṣṭī rathyeva cakrā prati yanti madhvaḥ
Ye made the fierce heat to be full of sweetness for Atri at his wish, like streaming water. Fire-offering thence is yours, O Asvins, Heroes: your car-wheels speed to us like springs of honey.
ā vāṃ dānāya vavṛtīya dasrā gor oheṇa taugryo na jivriḥ apaḥ kṣoṇī sacate māhinā vāṃ jūrṇo vām akṣur aṃhaso yajatrā
Like Tugra's ancient son may I, ye Mighty, bring you to give your gifts with milk-oblations. Your greatness compasseth Earth, Heaven, and Waters: decayed for you is sorrow's net, ye Holy.
ni yad yuvethe niyutaḥ sudānū upa svadhābhiḥ sṛjathaḥ purandhim preṣad veṣad vāto na sūrir ā mahe dade suvrato na vājam
When, Bounteous Ones, ye drive your yoked team downward, ye send, by your own natures, understanding. Swift as the wind let the prince please and feast you: he, like a pious man, gains strength for increase.
vayaṃ ciddhi vāṃ jaritāraḥ satyā vipanyāmahe vi paṇir hitāvān adhā ciddhi ṣmāśvināv anindyā pātho hi ṣmā vṛṣaṇāv antidevam
For verily we truthful singers praise you the niggard trafficker is here excluded. Now, even now do ye O blameless Asvins, ye Mighty, guard the man whose God is near him.
yuvāṃ ciddhi ṣmāśvināv anu dyūn virudrasya prasravaṇasya sātau agastyo narāṃ nṛṣu praśastaḥ kārādhunīva citayat sahasraiḥ
You of a truth day after day, O Asvins, that he might win the very plenteous torrent, Agastya, famous among mortal heroes, roused with a thousand lauds like sounds of music.
pra yad vahethe mahinā rathasya pra syandrā yātho manuṣo na hotā dhattaṃ sūribhya uta vā svaśvyaṃ nāsatyā rayiṣācaḥ syāma
When with the glory of your car ye travel, when we go speeding like the priest of mortals, And give good horses to sacrificers, may we, Nasatyas! gain our share of riches.
taṃ vāṃ rathaṃ vayam adyā huvema stomair aśvinā suvitāya navyam ariṣṭanemim pari dyām iyānaṃ vidyāmeṣaṃ vṛjanaṃ jīradānum
With songs of praise we call to-day, O Asvins, that your new chariot, for our own well-being, That circles heaven with never-injured fellies. May we find strengthening food in full abundance.