THY gladdening draughts, O Pavamana, urged by song flow swiftly of themselves like sons of fleet-foot mares. The drops of Soma juice, those eagles of the heavens, most cheering, rich in meath, rest in the reservoir.
As rapid chariot-steeds, so turned in several ways have thine exhilarating juices darted forth, Soma-drops rich in meath, waves, to the Thunder-armed, to Indra, like milch-kine who seek their calf with milk.
Like a steed urged to battle, finder of the light; speed onward to the cloud-born reservoir of heaven, A Steer that o’er the woolly surface seeks the sieve, Soma while purified for Indra's nourishment.
Fleet as swift steeds, thy drops, divine, thought-swift, have been, O Pavamana, poured with milk into the vat. The Ṛṣis have poured in continuous Soma drops, ordainers who adorn thee, Friend whom Ṛṣis love.
O thou who seest all things, Sovran as thou art and passing strong, thy rays encompass all abodes. Pervading with thy natural powers thou flowest on, and as the whole world's Lord, O Soma, thou art King.
The beams of Pavamana, sent from earth and heaven, his ensigns who is ever steadfast, travel round. When on the sieve the Golden-hued is cleansed, he rests within the vats as one who seats him in his place.
Served with fair rites he flows, ensign of sacrifice: Soma advances to the special place of Gods. He speeds with thousand currents to the reservoir, and passes through the filter bellowing as a bull.
The Sovran dips him in the seain and the streams, and set in rivers with the waters' wave moves on. High heaven's Sustainer at the central point of earth, raised on the fleecy surface Pavamana stands.
He on whose high decree the heavens and earth depend nath roared and thundered like the summit of the sky. Soma flows on obtaining Indra's friendly love, and, as they purify him, settles in the jars.
He, light of sacrifice distils delicious meath, most wealthy, Father and begetter of the Gods. He, gladdening, best of Cheerers, juice!hat Indra loves, enriches with mysterious treasure earth and heaven.
The vigorous and far-seeing one, the Lord of heaven, flows, shouting to the beaker, with his thousand streams. Coloured like gold he rests in seats where Mitra dwells, the Steer made beautiful by rivers and by sheep.
In forefront of the rivers Pavamana speeds, in forefront of the hymn, foremost among the kine. He shares the mighty booty in the van of war: the well-armed Steer is purified by worshippers.
This heedful Pavamana, like a bird sent forth, hath with his wave flowed onward to the fleecy sieve. O Indra, through thy wisdom, b thy thought, O Sage, Soma flows bright and pure between the earth and heaven.
He, clad in mail that reaches heaven, the Holy One, filling the firmament stationed amid the worlds, Knowing. the realm of light, hath come to us in rain: he summons to himself his own primeval Sire.
He who was first of all to penetrate his form bestowed upon his race wide shelter and defence. From that high station which he hath in loftiest heaven he comes victorious to all encounters here.
Indu hath started for Indra's special place and slights not as a Friend the promise of his Friend. Soma speeds onward like a youth to youtlitial maids, and gains the beaker by a course of bundred paths.
Your songs, exhilarating, tuneful, uttering praise, are come into the placns where the people meet. Worshippers have exalted Soma with their hymns, and milch kine have come near to meet him with their milk.
O Soma, Indu, while they cleanse thee, pour on us accumulateds Plentiful, nutritious food, Which, ceaseless, thrice a day shall yield us hero power enriched with store of nourishment, and strength, and Meath.
Far-seeing Soma flows, the Steer, the Lord of hymns, the Furtherer of day, of morning, and of heaven. Mixt with the streams he caused the beakers to resound, and with the singers' aid they entered Indra's heart.
On, with the prudent singers, flows the ancient Sage and guided by the men hath roared about the vats. Producing Trita's name, may he pour forth the meath, that Vāyu and that Indra may become his Friends.
He, being purified, hath made the Mornings shine: this, even this is he who gave the rivers room. He made the Three Times Seven pour out the milky flow: Soma, the Cheerer, yields whate’er the heart finds sweet.
Flow, onward, Soma, in thine own celestial forms, flow, Indu, poured within the beaker and the sieve. Sinking into the throat of Indra with a roar, led by the men thou madest Sūrya mount to heaven.
Pressed out with stones thou flowest onward to the sieve, O Indu, entering the depths of Indra's throat. Far-sighted Soma, now thou lookest on mankind: thou didst unbar the cowstall for the Aṅgirases.
In thee, O Soma, while thou purifitedst thee, high-thoughted sages, seeking favour, have rejoiced. Down from the heavens the Falcon brought thee hitherward, even thee, O Indu, thee whom all our hymns adorn.
Seven Milch-kine glorify the Tawny-coloured One while with his wave in wool he purifies himself. The living men, the mighty, have impelled the Sage into the waters' lap, the place of sacrifice.
Indu, attaining purity, plunges through the foe, making Ilis ways all easy for the pious man. Making the kine his mantle, he, the lovely Sage, runs like a sporting courser onward through the fleece.
The ceaseless watery fountains with their hundred streams sing, as they hasten near, to him the Golden-hued Him, clad in robes of milk, swift fingers beautify on the third height and in the luminous realm of heaven.
These are thy generations of celestial seed thou art the Sovran Lord of all the world of life. This universe, O Pavamana, owns thy sway; thou, Indu, art the first establisher of Law.
Thou art the sea, O Sage who bringest alf to light: under thy Law are these five regions of the world. Tlou reachest out beyond the earth, beyond the heavens: thine are the lights, O Pavamana, thine the Sun.
Thou in the filter, Soma Pavamana, art purified to support the region for the Gods. The chief, the longing ones have sought to hold thee fast, and all these living creatures have been turned to thee.
Onward the Singer travels o’er the fleecy sieve. the Tawny Steer hath bellowed in the wooden vats. Hymns have been sung aloud in resonant harmony, and holy songs kiss him, the Child who claims our praise.
He hath assumed the rays of Sūrya for his robe, spinning, as he knows bow, the triply-twisted thread. He, guiding to the newest rules of Holy Law, comes as the Women's Consort to the special place.
On flows the King of rivers and the Lord of heaven: he follows with a shout the paths of Holy Law. The Golden-hued is poured forth, with his hundred streams, Wealth-bringer, lifting up his voice while purified.
Fain to be cleansed, thou, Pavamana, pourest out, like wondrous Sūrya, through the fleece, an ample sea. Purified with the hands, pressed by the men with stones, thou speedest on to mighty booty-bringing war.
Thou, Pavamana, sendest food and power in streams. thou sittest in the beakers as a hawk on trees, For Indra poured as cheering juice to make him glad, as nearest and farseeing bearer-up of heaven.
The Sisters Seven, the Mothers, stand around the Babe, the noble, new-born Infant, skilled in holy song, Gandharva of the floods, divine, beholding men, Soma, that he may reign as King of all the world.
As Sovran Lord thereof thou Passest through these worlds, O Indu, harnessing thy tawny well-winged Mares. May they pour forth for thee milk and oil rich in sweets: O Soma, let the folk abide in thy decree.
O Soma, thou beholdest men from every side: O Pavamana, Steer, thou wanderest through these. Pour out upon us wealth in treasure and in gold: may we have strength to live among the things that be.
Winner of gold and goods and cattle flow thou on, set as impregner, Indu, mid the worlds of life. Rich in brave men art thou, Soma, who winnest all: these holy singers wait upon thee with the song.
The wave of flowing meath hath wakened up desires: the Steer enrobed in milk plunges into the streams. Borne on his chariot-sieve the King hath risen to war, and with a thousand rays hath won him high renown.
Dear to all life, he sends triumphant praises forth, abundant, bringing offspring, each succeeding day. From Indra crave for us, Indu, when thou art quaffed, the blessing that gives children, wealth that harbours steeds.
When days begin, the strong juice, lovely, golden-hued, is recognized by wisdom more and more each day, He, stirring both the Races, goes between the two, the bearer of the word of men and word of Gods.
They balm him, balm him over balm him thoroughly, caress the mighty strength and balm it with the meath. They seize the flying Steer at the stream's breathing-place: cleansing with gold they grasp the Animal herein.
Sing forth to Pavamana skilled in holy song: the juice is flowing onward like a mighty stream. He.glideth like a serpent from his ancient skin, and like a playful horse the Tawny Steer hath run.
Dweller in floods, King, foremost, he displays his might, set among living things as measurer of days. Distilling oil he flows, fair, billowy, golden-hued, borne on a car of light, sharing one hom-e with wealth.
Loosed is the heavens! support, the uplifted cheering juice: the triply-mingled draught flows round into the worlds. The holy hymns caress the stalk that claims our praise, when singers have approached his beauteous robe with song.
Thy strearns that flow forth rapidly collected run over the fine fleece of the sheep as thou art cleansed. When, Indu, thou art. balmed with milk within the bowl, thou sinkest in the jars, O Soma, when expressed.
Winner of power, flow, Soma, worthy of our laud: run onward to the fleece as well-beloved meath. Destroy, O Indu, all voracious Rākṣasas. With brave sons in the assembly let our speech be bold.
