Hymns of the Atharva Veda, by Ralph T.H. Griffith, [1895], at sacred-texts.com
1Black is the mother, we have heard, from whom the red-hued
Pustules sprang.
With the divine ascetic's root I pierce and penetrate them all.
2I pierce the foremost one of these, I perforate the middlemost,
And here I cut the hindermost asunder like a lock of hair.
3With spell that Tvashtar sent to us I have dispelled thy jealousy.
We mitigate and pacify the anger that thou feltest, Lord!
4Lord of religious rites, by law, anointed, shine thou forth here
for ever friendly-minded.
So may we all with children, Jātavedas! worship and humbly
wait on thee enkindled.