SOMA, the Steer, effused for draught, flows to the purifying sieve, Slaying the fiends, loving the Gods.
Far-sighted, tawny-coloured, he flows to the sieve, intelligent, Bellowing, to his place of rest.
This vigorous Pavamana runs forth to the luminous realm of heaven, Fiend-slayer, through the fleecy sieve.
This Payamana up above Trita's high ridge hath made the Sun, Together with the Sisters, shine.
This Vṛtra-slaying Steer, effused, Soma room-giver, ne’er deceived, Hath gone, as ’twere, to win the spoil.
Urged onward by the sage, the God speeds forward to the casks of wood, Indu to Indra willingly.
