POUR on us with thy juice all kinds of corn, each sort of nourishment, And, Soma, all felicities.
As thine, O Indu, is the praise, and thine what springeth from the juice, Seat thee on the dear sacred grass.
And, finding for us kine and steeds, O Soma, with thy juice flow on Through days that fly most rapidly.
As one who conquers, ne’er subdued, attacks and stays the enemy, Thus, Vanquisher of thousands! flow.
