SOMA, flow on with pleasant stream, a Bull devoted to the Gods, Our Friend, unto the woollen sieve.
Pour hitherward, as Indra's Self, Indu, that gladdening stream of thine, And send us coursers full of strength.
Flow to the filter hitherward, pouring that ancient gladdening juice, Streaming forth power and high renown.
Hither the sparkling drops have flowed, like waters down a steep descent They have reached Indra purified.
Whom, having passed the filter, ten dames cleanse, as ’twere a vigorous steed, While he disports him in the wood,—
The steer-strong juice with milk pour forth, for feast and service of the Gods, To him who bears away the draught.
Effused, the God flows onward with his stream to Indra, to the God, So that his milk may strengthen him.
Soul of the sacrifice, the juice effused flows quickly on: he keeps His ancient wisdom of a Sage.
So pouring forth, as Indra's Friend, strong drink, best Gladdener! for the feast, Thou, even in secret, storest hymns.
