← →

    Stanza 4.27.1

    गर्भे॒ नु सन्नन्वे॑षामवेदम॒हं दे॒वानां॒ जनि॑मानि॒ विश्वा॑ | श॒तं मा॒ पुर॒ आय॑सीररक्ष॒न्नध॑ श्ये॒नो ज॒वसा॒ निर॑दीयम् ||

    gárbhe nú sánn ánv eṣām avedam aháṁ devā́nāṁ jánimāni víśvā śatám mā púra ā́yasīr arakṣann ádha śyenó javásā nír adīyam

    While I was yet in the womb, I understood all the generations of these gods. A hundred iron fortresses protected me, but then, like a falcon, I flew out with speed.

    Stanza 4.27.2

    न घा॒ स मामप॒ जोषं॑ जभारा॒भीमा॑स॒ त्वक्ष॑सा वी॒र्ये॑ण | ई॒र्मा पुरं॑धिरजहा॒दरा॑तीरु॒त वाताँ॑ अतर॒च्छूशु॑वानः ||

    ná ghā sá mā́m ápa jóṣaṁ jabhārābhī́m āsa tvákṣasā vīryèṇa īrmā́-púraṁdhir ajahād árātīr utá vā́tām̐ atarac chū́śuvānaḥ

    He did not take me out of his own pleasure; he carried me with his might and strength. The bold one immediately left the enemies behind and, becoming stronger, surpassed the winds.

    Stanza 4.27.3

    अव॒ यच्छ्ये॒नो अस्व॑नी॒दध॒ द्योर्वि यद्यदि॒ वात॑ ऊ॒हुः पुरं॑धिम् | सृ॒जद्यद॑स्मा॒ अव॑ ह क्षि॒पज्ज्यां कृ॒शानु॒रस्ता॒ मन॑सा भुर॒ण्यन् ||

    áva yác chyenó ásvanīd ádha dyór ví yád yádi vā́ta ūhúḥ púraṁdhim sr̥jád yád asmā áva ha kṣipáj jyā́ṁ kr̥śā́nur ástā mánasā bhuraṇyán

    When the falcon cried out and descended from the sky, he carried the bold one, moving like the wind. Then, in his mind, Kr̥iṣanu, the archer, aimed and loosed the bowstring to strike him.

    Stanza 4.27.4

    ऋ॒जि॒प्य ई॒मिन्द्रा॑वतो॒ न भु॒ज्युं श्ये॒नो ज॑भार बृह॒तो अधि॒ ष्णोः | अ॒न्तः प॑तत्पत॒त्र्य॑स्य प॒र्णमध॒ याम॑नि॒ प्रसि॑तस्य॒ तद्वेः ||

    r̥jipyá īm índrāvato ná bhujyúṁ śyenó jabhāra br̥ható ádhi ṣṇóḥ antáḥ patat patatry àsya parṇám ádha yā́mani prásitasya tád véḥ

    The falcon bore the swift one from the great summit, as the swift chariot of Indra's Friend bore Bhujyu. Then, a feather of the flying bird fell down, of the moving one.

    Stanza 4.27.5

    अध॑ श्वे॒तं क॒लशं॒ गोभि॑र॒क्तमा॑पिप्या॒नं म॒घवा॑ शु॒क्रमन्धः॑ | अ॒ध्व॒र्युभिः॒ प्रय॑तं॒ मध्वो॒ अग्र॒मिन्द्रो॒ मदा॑य॒ प्रति॑ ध॒त्पिब॑ध्यै॒ शूरो॒ मदा॑य॒ प्रति॑ ध॒त्पिब॑ध्यै ||

    ádha śvetáṁ kaláśaṁ góbhir aktám āpipyānám maghávā śukrám ándhaḥ adhvaryúbhiḥ práyatam mádhvo ágram índro mádāya práti dhat píbadhyai śū́ro mádāya práti dhat píbadhyai

    And now let Maghavan accept the white beaker, filled with milk and shining liquid. The best of sweet meath, prepared by the priests: Indra the hero may accept it for his joy, for drinking.

    ← Previous Hymn Next Hymn →