Hymns of the Atharva Veda, by Ralph T.H. Griffith, [1895], at sacred-texts.com
1With retroverted fruit hast thou, O Apāmārga, sprung and
    grown.
   Hence into distance most remote drive every curse away from,
    me.
 2Whatever evil we have done, whatever vile or sinful act,
   With thee, O Apāmārga, who lookest all ways, we wipe it off.
 3If with the cripple we have lived, whose teeth are black and
    nails deformed,
   With thee, O Apāmārga, we wipe all that ill away from us.