1 The herb Prisniparni hath blest us, and troubled destruction. Fierce crusher of the Kanvas is she: her have I gained, the mighty one.

2 Victorious in the olden time this Prisniparni was brought forth: with her I cleave, as 'twere a bird's, the head of the Detestables.

4 The hateful fiend who drinks the blood, and him who takes away the growth, the Kanva who devours the germ, quell, Prisniparni! and destroy.

5 Drive and imprison in a hill these Kanvas, harassers of life: follow them, Prisniparni, O herb, like fire consuming them.

6 Drive thou away these Kanvas, drive the harassers of life afar. Whither the shades of darkness go, I send the fiends who feed on flesh.