mímātu dyaúr áditir vītáye naḥ sáṃ dā́nucitrā uṣáso yatantām |
ā́cucyavur diviyáṃ kóśam etá ŕ̥ṣe rudrásya marúto gr̥ṇānā́ḥ ||
8 May Dyaus, the Infinite, roar for our banquet: may Dawns toil for us, glittering with moisture. Lauded by thee, these Maruts, Sons o Rudra, O Ṛṣi, have sent down the heavenly treasure.
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