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Atharvaveda 20.73

Atharvavedasaṃhitā 20.73

Language
Sanskrit

20.73.1

túbhyéd imā́ sávanā śūra víśvā túbhyaṃ bráhmāṇi várdhanā kr̥ṇomi |
tváṃ nŕ̥bhir hávyo viśvádhāsi ||1||

All these libations are for thee, O Hero: to thee I offer these my prayers that strengthen. Ever, in every place, must men invoke thee.

Ralph T. H. Griffith 1895, The Hymns of the Atharvaveda

20.73.2

nū́ cin nú te mányamānasya dasmód aśnuvanti mahimā́nam ugra |
ná vīryàm indra te ná rā́dhaḥ ||2||

Never do men attain, O Wonder-worker, thy greatness, Mighty One who must be lauded, Nor, Indra, thine heroic power and bounty.

Ralph T. H. Griffith 1895, The Hymns of the Atharvaveda

20.73.3

prá vo mahé mahivŕ̥dhe bharadhvaṃ prácetase prá sumatíṃ kr̥ṇudhvam |
víśaḥ pūrvī́ḥ prá carā carṣaṇiprā́ḥ ||3||

Bring to the Wise, the Great who waxeth mighty your offerings and make ready your devotion: To many clans he goeth, man's Controller.

Ralph T. H. Griffith 1895, The Hymns of the Atharvaveda

20.73.4

yadā́ vájraṃ híraṇyam íd áthā ráthaṃ hárī yámasya váhato ví sūríbhiḥ |
ā́ tiṣṭhati maghávā sánaśruta índro vā́jasya dīrgháśravasas pátiḥ ||4||

When, with the Princes, Maghavan, famed of old, comes nigh the thunderbolt of gold and the Controller's car Which his two tawny coursers draw, then Indra is the Sovran Lord of power whose fame spreads far and wide.

Ralph T. H. Griffith 1895, The Hymns of the Atharvaveda

20.73.5

só cin nú vr̥ṣṭír yūthyā̀ svā́ sácām̐ índraḥ śmáśrūṇi háritābhí pruṣṇute |
áva veti sukṣáyaṃ suté mádhū́d íd dhūṇoti vā́to yáthā vánam ||5||

With him too is this rain of his that comes like herds: Indra throws drops of moisture on his yellow beard. When the sweet juice is shed he seeks the pleasant place, and stirs the worshipper as the wind disturbs the wood.

Ralph T. H. Griffith 1895, The Hymns of the Atharvaveda

20.73.6

yó vācā́ vívāco mr̥dhrávācaḥ purū́ sahásrā́śivā jaghā́na |
táttad íd asya páuṃsyaṃ gr̥ṇīmasi pitéva yás táviṣīṃ vāvr̥dhé śávaḥ ||6||

We laud and praise his several deeds of valour who, fatherlike,. with power hath made us stronger; Who with his voice slew many thousand wicked ones who spake in varied manner with contemptuous cries.

Ralph T. H. Griffith 1895, The Hymns of the Atharvaveda

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