FORTH from the mortar is the juice sent, like a car-horse, to the sieve: The Steed steps forward to the goal.
Thus, Soma, watchful, bearing well, cheering the Gods, flow past the sieve, Turned to the vat that drops with meath.
Excellent Pavamana, make the lights shine brightly out for us. Speed us to mental power and skill.
He, beautified by pious men, and coming from their hands adorned, Flows through the fleecy straining-cloth.
May Soma pour all treasures of the heavens, the earth, the firmament Upon the liberal worshipper.
Thou mountest to the height of heaven, O Soma, seeking steeds and kine, And seeking heroes, Lord of Strength!
