IN forefront of the cars forth goes the Hero, the Leader, winning spoil: his host rejoices. Soma endues his robes of lasting colours, and blesses, for his friends, their calls on Indra.
Men decked with gold adorn his golden tendril, incessantly with steed-impelling homage. The Friend of Indra mounts his car well-knowing, he comes thereon to meet the prayer we offer.
O God, for service of the Gods flow onward, for food sublime, as Indra's drink, O Soma. Making the floods, bedewing earth and heaven, come from the vast, comfort us while we cleanse thee
Flow for prosperity and constant Vigour, flow on for happiness and high perfection. This is the wish of these friends assembled: this is my wish, O Soma Pavamana.
Father of holy hymns, Soma flows onward the Father of the earth, Father of heaven: Father of Agni, Sūrya's generator, the Father who begat Indra and Viṣṇu.
Brahman of Gods, the Leader of the poets, Ṛṣi of sages, Bull of savage creatures, Falcon amid the vultures, Axe of forests, over the cleansing sieve goes Soma singing.
He, Soma Pavamana, like a river, hath stirred the wave of voice, our songs and praises. Beholding these inferior powers in cattle, he rests among them as a Steer well-knowing.
As Gladdener, Warrior never harmed in battle, with thousand genial streams, pour strength and vigour. As thoughtful Pavamana, urge O Indu, speeding the kine, the plant's wave on to Indra.
Dear, grateful to the Gods, on to the beaker moves Soma, sweet to Indra, to delight him. With hundred powers, with thousand currents, Indu, like a strong car-horse, goes to the assembly.
Born in old time as finder-out of treasures, drained with the stone, decking himself in waters, Warding off curses, King of all existence, he shall find way for prayer the while they cleanse him.
For our sage fathers, Soma Pavamana, of old performed, by thee, their sacred duties. Fighting unvanquished, open the enclosures: enrich us with large gifts of steeds and heroes.
As thou didst flow for Manu Life-bestowing, Foe-queller, Comforter, rich in oblations, Even thus flow onward now conferring riches: combine with Indra, and bring forth thy weapons.
Flow onward, Soma, rich in sweets and holy,. enrobed in waters on the fleecy summit. Settle in vessels that are full of fatness, as cheering and most gladdening drink for Indra.
Pour, hundred-streamed, winner of thousands, mighty at the Gods’ banquet, Pour the rain of heaven, While thou with rivers roarest in the beaker, and blent with milk prolongest our existence.
Purified with our holy hymns, this Soma o’ertakes malignities like some strong charger, Like fresh milk poured by Aditi, like passage in ample room, or like a docile car-horse.
Cleansed by the pressers, armed with noble weapons, stream to us the fair secret name thou bearest. Pour booty, like a horse, for love of glory God, Soma, send us kine, and send us Vāyu.
They deck him at his birth, the lovely Infant, the Maruts with their troop adorn the Car-horse. By songs a Poet and a Sage by wisdom, Soma joes singing through the cleansing filter.
Light-winner, Ṛṣi-mindcd, Ṛṣi-maker, hymned in a thousand hymns, Leader of sages, A Steer who strives to gain his third form, Soma is, like Virāj, resplendent as a Singer.
Hawk seated in the bowls, Bird wide-extended, the Banner seeking kine and wielding weapons, Following close the sea, the wave of waters, the great Bull tells his fourth form and declares it.
Like a fair youth who decorates his body, a courser rushing to the gain of riches, A steer to herds, so, flowing to the pitcher, he with a roar hath passed into the beakers.
Flow on with might as Pavamana, Indu flow loudly roaring through the fleecy filter. Enter the beakers sporting, as they cleanse thee, and let thy gladdening juice make Indra joyful.
His streams have been effused in all their fulness, and he hath entered, balmed with milk, the goblets. Singing his psalm, well-skilled in song, a Chanter, be comes as ’twere to his friend's sister roaring.
Chasing our foes thou comest, Pavamana Indu, besting, as lover to his darling. As a bird flies and settles in the forest, thus Soma settles, purified, in goblets.
With full stream and abundant milk, O Soma, thy beams come, like a woman, as they cleanse thee. He, gold-hued, rich in boons, brought to the waters, hath roared within the goblet of the pious.
