1 God first brought to life the antidote of poison, and made poison ineffectual.

2 Far as the heavens and earth are spread in compass, far as the Seven Rivers are extended,

So far my prayer, the antidote of poison, have I spoken hence.

3 The strong-winged Bird first of all, O Poison, fed on thee:

Thou didst not gripe or make him drunk; aye, thou becamest food for him.

4 Whoever with five fingers hath shot thee from the crooked bow,

I from the shaft have prayed away the poison of the fastening band.

5 The poison have I prayed away from shaft, cement, and feathered end;

Yea, from the barb, the neck, the horn, the poison have I prayed away.

6 Feeble, O Arrow, is thy shaft, thy poison, too, hath lost its strength.

Made of a worthless tree, thy bow, O feeble one, is impotent.

7 The men who brayed it, smeared it on, they who discharged it, sent it forth,

All these are made powerless, powerless the poison-hill.

8 Thy diggers are powerless, powerless, O Plant, art thou.

The rugged mountain that produced this poison is powerless.