Thou art a Vrâtya, O Prâna, the only Rishi, the consumer of everything, the good lord. We are the givers of what thou hast to consume, thou, O Mâtarisva, art our father.

In plain words: The hymn calls Prana pure in itself, needing no ritual to be made holy. It names Prana the one great seer, the one who takes in everything, and the good lord. The worshippers say they give Prana its food, and they call Prana, here named Matarisvan (the wind), their father.