In a sacred ritual, the pressed Soma is purified with stones moved by hand, its essence running sweetly, flowing like honey. The worshippers bow down, sitting near, listening intently to the vessel as they place the precious drop for Indra. Soma, wise and destroyer of foes, flows for the cow and for the gods, fulfilling their desires. Poured for Indra to drink, Soma brings intoxication; even the mind, lord of the mind, longs for its touch. O Soma, purifying one, grant heroic strength and bestow wealth upon us, with Indra as our ally. The Indus, pressed, have flowed—the Soma juices rest in the seat of truth, most sweet for Indra. The sages call out, as cows to their calf, inviting Indra to partake of Soma. Flowing with intoxication, Soma dwells in the seat, as a wave upon the river, resting wisely upon the cow. From the navel of heaven, the discerning Soma is magnified in the waters, wise and poetic. Placed within the vessels and the filter, Indu embraces Soma. Indu sends forth speech from the summit of the ocean, stirring the honey-dropping vessel. The ever-praised tree, full of milk within, pours forth for the generations of men. Soma, pouring forth, rushes to the beloved seat of heaven, the poet with sage wisdom. O purifying one, bring us wealth with a thousand splendors, O Indu, our own. Soma, purified, flows forth with a thousand streams, powerful and unconquered, for the offering of Vayu and Indra. Singers praise the purified, inspired Soma, pressed for the favor of the gods. The Somas, rich in a thousand powers, are purified for gaining strength, praised for divine favor. For strength, purify for us great riches, O radiant Indu, and glorious heroism. May those pressed Indus, the gods themselves, purify for us a thousandfold wealth and heroism. Like swift horses urged by charioteers, they rush forth for strength, breaking through all barriers. The Indus, strong and flowing, like cows to their calf, settle in the hands. The beloved, exhilarating, roaring Soma, purified, pleases Indra and destroys all enemies. The purified ones, shining like the sun, drive away the hostile, sitting in the womb of the pressing-stone. The sage spreads himself out, resting upon the wave of the river, bearing much-desired work. When the five clans, united with their kin, purify the pressing-stone with their voices, all the gods delight in the juice of this mighty one, especially when he is clothed with cows. Pressed out, Soma runs forth, casting off his coverings and joining with his yoke-fellow. Pure and young, like the offspring of Vivasvat, he cleanses himself with his kin, making the cows pass through the strainer. He goes beyond obstacles, across narrow paths, seeking the wealth of cattle, stirring up those who know him. The streams come together, purifying the lord of nourishment, as the swift ones seize his back. Soma, you have touched all heavenly and earthly treasures; come to the wealth that is here. Wise and subtle, Soma goes forth with swift chariots, seeking Indra’s offering. Praised by many with thoughtful devotion, he is honored where immortals dwell. Set in motion, he is led along the shining path, pressed onward by the stones. Shaking his horns, the youthful bull of the herd bears strength and vigor. Adorned with golden ornaments, swift with shining rays, he becomes lord of the rivers. Drinking the treasures, Soma passes beyond rough places and descends into the vessels. To be cleansed, the grains purify him in the troughs, moving with great strength. Ten fingers and seven thoughts cleanse him, most intoxicating, with his own weapon. The skillful pressers pour out the juice for delight, like a stream swiftly flowing.