Rig Veda
ā te pitar marutāṃ sumnam etu mā naḥ sūryasya saṃdṛśo yuyothāḥ abhi no vīro arvati kṣameta pra jāyemahi rudra prajābhiḥ
Father of Maruts, let thy bliss approach us: exclude us not from looking on the sunlight. Gracious to our fleet courser be the Hero may we transplant us, Rudra, in our children.
tvādattebhī rudra śantamebhiḥ śataṃ himā aśīya bheṣajebhiḥ vy asmad dveṣo vitaraṃ vy aṃho vy amīvāś cātayasvā viṣūcīḥ
With the most saving medicines which thou givest, Rudra, may I attain a hundred winters. Far from us banish enmity and hatred, and to all quarters maladies and trouble.
śreṣṭho jātasya rudra śriyāsi tavastamas tavasāṃ vajrabāho
Chief of all born art thou in glory, Rudra, armed with the thunder, mightiest of the mighty. Transport us over trouble to well-being repel thou from us all assaults of mischief.
mā tvā rudra cukrudhāmā namobhir mā duṣṭutī vṛṣabha mā sahūtī un no vīrāṁ arpaya bheṣajebhir bhiṣaktamaṃ tvā bhiṣajāṃ śṛṇomi
Let us not anger thee with worship, Rudra, ill praise, Strong God! or mingled invocation. Do thou with strengthening balms incite our heroes: I hear thee famed as best of all physicians.
havīmabhir havate yo havirbhir ava stomebhī rudraṃ diṣīya ṛdūdaraḥ suhavo mā no asyai babhruḥ suśipro rīradhan manāyai
May I with praise-songs win that Rudra's favour who is adored with gifts and invocations. Ne'er may the tawny God, fair-checked, and gracious, swift hearing, yield us to this evil purpose.
This verse is not included in this edition.
The Strong, begirt by Maruts, hath refreshed me, with most invigorating food, imploring. As he who finds a shade in fervent sunlight may I, uninjured, win the bliss of Rudra.
kva sya te rudra mṛḍayākur hasto yo asti bheṣajo jalāṣaḥ apabhartā rapaso daivyasyābhī nu mā vṛṣabha cakṣamīthāḥ
Where is that gracious hand of thine, O Rudra, the hand that giveth health and bringeth comfort, Remover of the woe that Gods have sent us? O Strong One, look thou on me with compassion.
pra babhrave vṛṣabhāya śvitīce maho mahīṃ suṣṭutim īrayāmi
To him the strong, great, tawny, fair-complexioned, I utter forth a mighty hymn of praises. We serve the brilliant God with adorations, we glorify, the splendid name of Rudra.
sthirebhir aṅgaiḥ pururūpa ugro babhruḥ śukrebhiḥ pipiśe hiraṇyaiḥ īśānād asya bhuvanasya bhūrer na vā u yoṣad rudrād asuryam
With firm limbs, multiform, the strong, the tawny adorns himself with bright gold decorations: The strength of Godhead ne'er departs from Rudra, him who is Sovran of this world, the mighty.
arhan bibharṣi sāyakāni dhanvārhan niṣkaṃ yajataṃ viśvarūpam arhann idaṃ dayase viśvam abhvaṃ na vā ojīyo rudra tvad asti
Worthy, thou carriest thy bow and arrows, worthy, thy manyhued and honoured necklace. Worthy, thou cuttest here each fiend to pieces: a mightier than thou there is not, Rudra.
stuhi śrutaṃ gartasadaṃ yuvānam mṛgaṃ na bhīmam upahatnum ugram mṛḍā jaritre rudra stavāno 'nyaṃ te asman ni vapantu senāḥ
Praise him the chariot-borne, the young, the famous, fierce, slaying like a dread beast of the forest. O Rudra, praised, be gracious to the singer. let thy hosts spare us and smite down another.
kumāraś cit pitaraṃ vandamānam prati nānāma rudropayantam bhūrer dātāraṃ satpatiṃ gṛṇīṣe stutas tvam bheṣajā rāsy asme
I bend to thee as thou approachest, Rudra, even as a boy before the sire who greets him. I praise thee Bounteous Giver, Lord of heroes: give medicines to us as thou art lauded.
yā vo bheṣajā marutaḥ śucīni yā śantamā vṛṣaṇo yā mayobhu yāni manur avṛṇītā pitā nas tā śaṃ ca yoś ca rudrasya vaśmi
Of your pure medicines, O potent Martits, those that are wholesomest and health bestowing, Those which our father Manu hath selected, I crave from. Rudra for our gain and welfare.
pari ṇo hetī rudrasya vṛjyāḥ pari tveṣasya durmatir mahī gāt ava sthirā maghavadbhyas tanuṣva mīḍhvas tokāya tanayāya mṛḍa
May Rudra's missile turn aside and spare us, the great wrath of the impetuous One avoid us. Turn, Bounteous God, thy strong bow from our princes, and be thou gracious to our seed and offspring.
evā babhro vṛṣabha cekitāna yathā deva na hṛṇīṣe na haṃsi havanaśrun no rudreha bodhi bṛhad vadema vidathe suvīrāḥ
O tawny Bull, thus showing forth thy nature, as neither to be wroth, O God, nor slay us. Here, Rudra, listen to our invocation. Loud may we speak, with heroes, in assembly.