Rig Veda
pra sākamukṣe arcatā gaṇāya yo daivyasya dhāmnas tuviṣmān uta kṣodanti rodasī mahitvā nakṣante nākaṃ nirṛter avaṃśāt
Sing to the troop that pours down rain in common, the Mighty Company of celestial nature. They make the world-halves tremble with their greatness: from depths of earth and sky they reach to heaven.
janūś cid vo marutas tveṣyeṇa bhīmāsas tuvimanyavo 'yāsaḥ pra ye mahobhir ojasota santi viśvo vo yāman bhayate svardṛk
Yea, your birth, Maruts, was with wild commotion, ye who move swiftly, fierce in wrath, terrific. Ye all-surpassing in your might and vigour, each looker on the light fears at your coming.
bṛhad vayo maghavadbhyo dadhāta jujoṣann in marutaḥ suṣṭutiṃ naḥ gato nādhvā vi tirāti jantum pra ṇa spārhābhir ūtibhis tireta
Give ample vital power unto our princes let our fair praises gratify the Maruts. As the way travelled helpeth people onward, so further us with your delightful succours.
yuṣmoto vipro marutaḥ śatasvī yuṣmoto arvā sahuriḥ sahasrī yuṣmotaḥ samrāﾱ uta hanti vṛtram pra tad vo astu dhūtayo deṣṇam
Your favoured singer counts his wealth by hundreds: the strong steed whom ye favour wins a thousand. The Sovran whom ye aid destroys the foeman. May this your gift, ye Shakers, be distinguished.
tāṁ ā rudrasya mīﾱhuṣo vivāse kuvin naṃsante marutaḥ punar naḥ yat sasvartā jihīﾱire yad āvir ava tad ena īmahe turāṇām
I call, as such, the Sons of bounteous Rudra: will not the Maruts turn again to us-ward? What secret sin or open stirs their anger, that we implore the Swift Ones to forgive us.
pra sā vāci suṣṭutir maghonām idaṃ sūktam maruto juṣanta ārāc cid dveṣo vṛṣaṇo yuyota yūyam pāta svastibhiḥ sadā naḥ
This eulogy of the Bounteous hath been spoken: accept, ye Maruts, this our hymn of praises. Ye Bulls, keep those who hate us at a distance. Preserve us evermore, ye Gods, with blessings.