Upon the path of truth, the sacred Soma drops begin their journey, radiant and wise, knowing their yoking and purpose. They spread forth as the foremost stream of sweetness—great, abundant, and worthy of praise among all offerings. As the bull, eminent in speech, is yoked, he makes his resounding call for the worshipper, establishing the true rite within the dwellings. When the sage, adorned with heroic powers, moves with songs, he seeks to win the world of light. Pavamana, overcoming all hosts, sits like a king among the people, as the wise purify him. The beloved tawny one, clothed in waters, rests in the woods; his roaring is honored by hymns. Exhilarated, he goes forth with Vayu, Indra, and the Ashvins, striving by his own laws. To Mitra and Varuna, to Bhaga, his waves of sweetness flow, knowing their powers. For us, Heaven and Earth, grant wealth: sweetness for strength, fame, and gathered riches. The Somas, increasing Indra’s desire, flow forth, strengthening his power. Purifying themselves as their juice is pressed, they journey to Vayu and the Ashvins, that they may grant us heroic strength. O Soma, purified for Indra’s bounty, impel yourself into the heart, settling in the womb of truth. Ten fingers cleanse you, seven thoughts urge you onward; the inspired ones follow your tracks. For the gods, for exhilaration, we send you forth, O flowing one, clothing you with the kine. Purifying in the vessels, the ruddy, tawny one puts on garments and encompasses the kine. Flow for us, O generous one; drive away all haters; O Indu, come as a friend. Let rain flow down from the sky, strength upon the earth; grant us, O Soma, might in battles. We would partake of you, O Soma, drunk by Indra, seer of light, as food for offspring. The inspired sage, beloved of heaven, set in the place of offspring, proceeds well-praised, possessing the wisdom of seers. Chosen and true, he advances for the dwelling and the people, without deceit, with the swiftest force. That pure son, born of his mothers, when born, made them shine forth—great and grown by the cosmic order, vast. Set in motion by seven thoughts, unimpeded, he sets the rivers flowing, which together increase from one source. For the mighty youth, they have placed the flowing one, pressed and spread, O Indra, under your rule. The immortal fire, shining, beholds the seven streams; the skilled one satisfies the goddesses. O Soma, drive away from us the deepest darkness; purifying, you shatter them. For the ever-new, ever-younger hymn, make the path easy; shine forth ancient lights anew. O Pavamana, grant great fame, cattle, horses with heroes, enduring wisdom, and enduring light. The pressed Somas, like swift chariots eager for glory, advance for wealth. Set in motion like chariots, they are harnessed by the hands, bearing as if for the works of the doers. The Somas, like kings with praises, are adorned with cows, like a sacrifice arranged by seven. The pressed drops, for exhilaration, with their might and song, flow around, streaming forth in the vessel. The drinkers of light have begotten the wealth of dawn for Vivasvat; the strong ones spread the path wide. The channels of the mighty, of the active one, open the ancient doors of thought for the poets. The seven sons of the hotar, united, sit together, seeking the one path. As navel to navel, so it is placed; even the eye follows the sun, drawing out the offspring of the sage. The shining one, with his eye, beholds the beloved seat of heaven, set in secret by the priests. O men, sing to him, to Indu, the purifying one, as the gods approach him. The Atharvans surround him with honeyed milk; the god for the god, divine in nature. Flow for us, bringing blessing to the cow, to the people, to the charioteer, to the kings, and to the plants. Now, praise the tawny, self-powerful, ruddy one who touches the sky—Soma—with song.