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Rig Veda Book 10 Hymn 33 पर मा युयुज्रे परयुजो जनानां वहामि सम पुषणमन्तरेण | विश्वे देवासो अध मामरक्षन दुःशासुरागादिति घोष आसीत || सं मा तपन्त्यभितः सपत्नीरिव पर्शवः | नि बाधतेमतिर्नग्नता जसुर्वेर्न वेवीयते मतिः || मूषो न शिश्ना वयदन्ति माध्य सतोतारं ते शतक्रतो | सक्र्त सु नो मघवन्निन्द्र मर्ळयाधा पितेव नो भव || कुरुश्रवणमाव्र्णि राजानं तरासदस्यवम | मंहिष्ठंवाघतां रषिः || यस्य मा हरितो रथे तिस्रो वहन्ति साधुया | सतवैसहस्रदक्षिणे || यस्य परस्वादसो गिर उपमश्रवसः पितुः | कषेत्रं नरण्वमूचुषे || अधि पुत्रोपमश्रवो नपान मित्रातिथेरिहि | पितुष टे अस्मिवन्दिता || यदीशीयाम्र्तानामुत वा मर्त्यानाम | जीवेदिन्मघवा मम || न देवानामति वरतं शतात्मा चन जीवति | तथायुजा वि वाव्र्ते ||

pra mā yuyujre prayujo janānāṃ vahāmi sma puṣaṇamantareṇa | viśve devāso adha māmarakṣan duḥśāsurāghāditi ghoṣa āsīt || saṃ mā tapantyabhitaḥ sapatnīriva parśavaḥ | ni bādhateamatirnaghnatā jasurverna vevīyate matiḥ || mūṣo na śiśnā vyadanti mādhya stotāraṃ te śatakrato | sakṛt su no maghavannindra mṛḷayādhā piteva no bhava || kuruśravaṇamāvṛṇi rājānaṃ trāsadasyavam | maṃhiṣṭhaṃvāghatāṃ ṛṣiḥ || yasya mā harito rathe tisro vahanti sādhuyā | stavaisahasradakṣiṇe || yasya prasvādaso ghira upamaśravasaḥ pituḥ | kṣetraṃ naraṇvamūcuṣe || adhi putropamaśravo napān mitrātitherihi | pituṣ ṭe asmivanditā || yadīśīyāmṛtānāmuta vā martyānām | jīvedinmaghavā mama || na devānāmati vrataṃ śatātmā cana jīvati | tathāyujā vi vāvṛte ||

Translation:

Rig Veda

  1. THE urgings of the people have impelled me, and by,the nearest way I bring you Pūṣan. The Universal Gods have brought me safely. The cry was heard, Behold, Dubsasu cometh! 2 The ribs that compass me give pain and trouble me like rival wives. Indigence, nakedness, exhaustion press me sore: my mind is fluttering like a bird’s. 3 As rats eat weavers’ threads, cares are consuming me, thy singer, gatakratu, me. Have mercy on us once, O Indra, Bounteous Lord: be thou a Father unto us. 4 I the priests’ Ṛṣi chose as prince most liberal Kurusravana, The son of Trasadasyu’s son, 5 Whose three bays harnessed to the car bear me straight onward: I will laud The giver of a thousand meeds, 6 The sire of Upamasravas, even him whose words were passing sweet, As a fair field is to its lord. 7 Mark, Upamasravas, his son, mark, grandson of Mitratithi: I am thy father’s eulogist. 8 If I controlled Immortal Gods, yea, even were I Lord of men, My liberal prince were living still. 9 None lives, even had he hundred lives, beyond the statute of the Gods So am I parted from my friend.