FLOW onward, Indu, with this food for him who in thy wild delight Battered the nine-and-ninety down,
Smote swiftly forts, and gambara, then Yadu and that Turvaga, For pious Divodāsa's sake.
Finder of horses, pour on us horses and wealth in kine and gold, And, Indu, food in boundless store.
We seek to win thy friendly love, even Pavamana's flowing o’er The limit of the cleansing sieve.
With those same waves which in their stream oyerflow the purifying sieve, Soma; be gracious unto us.
O Soma, being purified, bring us from all sides,—for thou canst,— Riches and food with hero sons.
Him here, the Child whom streams have borne, the ten swift fingers beautify With the Ādityas is he seen.
With Indra and with Vāyu he, effused, flows onward with,the beams Of Sūrya to the cleansing sieve.
Flow rich in sweets and lovely for our Bhaga, Vāyu, Pūṣan flow For Mitra and for Varuṇa.
High is thy juice's birth: though set in heaven, on earth it hath obtained Strong sheltering power and great renown.
Striving to win, with him we gain all wealth from the ungodly man, Yea, all the glories of mankind.
Finder of room and freedom, flow for Indra whom we must adore, For Varuṇa and the Marut host.
The Gods have come to Indu well-descended, beautified with milk, The active crusher of the foe.
Even as mother cows their calf, so let our praise-songs strengthen him, Yea, him who winneth Indra's heart.
Soma, pour blessings on our kine, pour forth the food that streams with milk Increase the sea that merits laud.
From heaven hath Pavamana made, as ’twere, the marvellous thunder, and The lofty light of all mankind.
The gladdening and auspicious juice of thee, of Pavamana, King! Flows o’er the woollen straining-cloth.
Thy juice, O Pavamana, sends its rays abroad like splendid skill, Like lustre, all heaven's light, to see.
Flow onward with that juice of thine most excellent, that brings delight, Slaying the wicked, dear to Gods.
Killing the foeman and his hate, and winning booty every day, Gainer art thou of steeds and kine.
Red-hued, be blended with the milk that seems to yield its lovely breast, Falcon-like resting in thine home.
Flow onward thou who strengthenedst Indra to slaughter Vṛtra who Compassed and stayed the mighty floods.
Soma who rainest gifts, may we win riches with our hero sons: Strengthen, as thou art cleansed, our hymns.
Aided by thee, and through thy grace, may we be slayers when we war: Watch, Soma, at our solemn rites.
Chasing our foemen, driving off the godless, Soma flowcth on, Going to Indra's special place.
O Pavamana, hither bring great riches, and destroy our foes: O Indu, grant heroic fame.
A hundred obstacles have ne’er checked thee when fain to give thy boons, When, being cleansed, thou combatest.
Indu, flow on, a mighty juice; glorify us among the folk: Drive all our enemies away.
Indu, in this thy friendship most lofty and glorious may we Subdue all those who war with us.
Those awful weapons that thou hast, sharpened at point to strike men down- Guard us therewith from every foe.
