Salutations be to the Rudra’s wrath, salutations to your arrows, homage be to your twain arms.

With your gracious from, O gentle Rudra, pleasant to look on, with that most benign form look you on us, O Mountain-dweller!

O Mountain-dweller, whatever shaft you have in your hand to shoot, render that auspicious, Mountain-god, harm not man nor injure the moving things!

O Mountain-dweller, we salute you with our graceful hymns so that all our world be free from disease and well-satisfied!

The first divine physician and advocate, Rudra has saved us by crushing deadly serpents and by driving away the fiends.

He, the most auspicious one, of coppery, red and brown hue, is surrounded by thousands of Rudras. May the wrath of these Rudras stationed on all sides be ever far removed from us.

May Rudra, who travels in the form of the Sun, whose throat is blue, whose hue is coppery-red, whom the herdsmen and maidens carrying water have seen, may he be auspicious to us when beheld.

Salutations be to him, the blue-throated, the thousand-eyed, the beautiful to look on, and also to his ministers, to them be our homage!

Loosen your bow-string, slacken it at both the extremities of the bow, put away the arrows that you hold in your hand, O lord of the matted locks!

O Lord of braided hair, let your bow be stringless, your quiver hold no sharp arrows. May arrows be driven away and your sheath that contained your sword be empty.

O blissful Rudra, protect us well on all sides with your weapon, with the bow that you hold in your hand, the bow harmless to us.

O thousand-eyed, thousand-quivered Rudra, having blunted the points of your arrows, be benign and auspicious to us.

Obeisance be to your unstrung bow, homage be to your weapon. Salutations be to your two arms, and to your bow homage be!

Harm not, O Rudra, our elders and young ones, injure not our growing youths, harm not our children in the womb. Slay not our rearing sires, slay not the mothers, and harm not our own dear bodies.

Harm not our seed in embryo and our offspring, harm us not, our kine and steeds. Kill not our heroes in the fury of your wrath. We with oblations ever call on you.

Salutations to Rudra, the commander of the hosts, whose arms are gold-ornamented. Salutations to him who is the lord of entire world. Homage be to him whose hair is green trees, whose sheen is like green grass, the lord of beasts. Salutations be to the brilliant lord of pathways, to the golden haired wearer of the sacred thread, homage be to the ageless lord of the healthy people.

Salutations be to brown-hued Rudra, the piercer of the foes, to the lord of food, to the lord protector of the world. Salutation to Rudra’s weapons, salutation to him whose bow is bent in readiness, to the protector of the regions. Salutations to charioteer Rudra who harms none, to the lord of forests be salutations!

Salutations to the red-architect, to the protector of the trees. Salutations to Rudra, who expands the earth and giver of riches and splendour. Salutation to the lord of riches and splendour. Salutation to the lord of herbs and plants, to the sagacious tradesmen. Salutations to the lord of the bushes of the forest, to him who makes the wicked weep, to the shouting lord of hosts!