Hymns of the Atharva Veda, by Ralph T.H. Griffith, , at sacred-texts.com
1Hated by sinners, sprung from Gods, this Plant that turns the
Hath washed from me all curses, as water makes clean from
spot and stain.
2All curses of a rival, each curse of a female relative, Curse
uttered by an augry priest, all these we tread beneath our feet.
3Spread on the surface of the earth, downward from heaven thy
root depends: p. a40
With this that hath a thousand joints keep thou us safe on every
4Guard on all sides this woman, guard my children, us, and all
Let not malignity o'ercome, nor adversaries conquer us.
5Upon the curser fall his curse! Dwell we with him whose heart
We split the cruel villain's ribs whose evil eye bewitches us.