THESE rapid Soma-streams have stirred themselves to motion like strong steeds, Like cars, like armies hurried forth.
Swift as wide winds they lightly move, like rain-storms of Parjanya, like The flickering flames of burning fire.
These Soma juices, blent with curds, purified, skilled in sacred hymns, Have gained by song their hearts'desire.
Immortal, cleansed, these drops, since first they flowed, have never wearied, fain To reach the regions and their paths.
Advancing they have travelled o’er the ridges of the earth and heaven, And this the highest realm of all.
Over the heights have they attained the highest thread that is spun out, And this which must be deemed most high.
Thou, Soma, boldest wealth in kine which thou hast seized from niggard churls: Thou calledst forth the outspun thread.
