The tale begins with the purified Soma, the sacred essence, who has destroyed all that is harmful and crushed the malicious forces. As he emerges, the ancient lights shine forth, illuminating the path of sacrifice. His powers rise up, resounding like the mighty roar of a river’s wave, stirring the hearts of those who press him with song and devotion. As Soma flows, three voices eager for the ritual are raised, welcoming his unimpeded journey through the channel. Through unbroken coverings, the beloved tawny one is driven forth by stones, pouring out sweetness for all. He flows through the filter, most exhilarating and wise, entering the womb of the hymn, and is adorned with cows and garments, ready for Indra to drink. The Adhvaryu priest pours the pressed Soma through the filter, purifying it for Indra, the wielder of the bolt. The highest, most nourishing Soma, born from heaven, is pressed out for Indra, the sweetest one. The gods, the Maruts, partake of his intoxicating juice, savoring the sweetness of the flowing Soma. When pressed, Soma increases for exhilaration, inspiring the worshippers. He advances, pressed through the filter, bringing strength and fame. Soma, shining and swift-flowing, surrounds Bharadvāja with his juice, passing through the filter. With his ancient paths and unbroken coverings, the beloved one flows with a thousand streams, generous like a friend, a giver, and even with weapons, he is generous. Indu, much-invoked, casts down the strength of those who oppose, flowing forth with a hundred aids or a thousand pure ones, bringing abundant wealth. His powers arise, breaking the demon, driving away those who oppose. With this strength, Soma has struck down foes in chariot contests and the pursuit of wealth, praised with a fearless heart. No one can withstand the ordinances of the flowing purifier, who breaks those who contend against him. The exhilarating, tawny, swift Soma is urged on in the waters, the spirited draught for Indra. The ancient, shining essence of Soma is milked forth by the unwearied ones—brilliant Soma, the thousand-streamed seer. Like the sun, he looks on all sides, running through streams and ascending the seven channels to the sky. Purified, he stands above all worlds, Soma the god, not the sun. For divine aid, he flows around, bringing wealth with cattle, purified for Indra. Soma pours forth nourishment again and again, granting all good fortune. As his praise is sung and his pressed juice is born, Indu settles on the sacred grass, the beloved seat. Soma flows with his juice, granting cows and horses, swift through the days. He conquers and is not conquered, striking down foes without fear, flowing victorious by thousands. Swift and vast, Soma flows through the filter in accordance with truth, driving away demons, divine in nature. When he flows for strength, with a hundred streams unceasing, he enters Indra’s friendship. Ten maidens, like brides, yearn for him, the lover, as he is cleansed for the feast. Indu flows sweetly for Indra and Vishnu, protecting men and singers from harm. His streams rush forth like rains from the sky, towards the prize rich in horses and cattle. Seeing all lovely songs, the tawny one flows on, stirring up his weapons. Purified by his powers, he sits like a kingly elephant, firm in his vow, like a falcon on the pole. May he, purified, bring all treasures from heaven and earth. Soma, exhilarating, rushes forth—the stream of pressed juice, rushing forth again and again. The dawn knows by the hymn, pronounced aloud, and it must be given to the Brahmins, distributed by the lord of men. The dawn, wealth of mortals, goddess of riches, moves swiftly, shining gently. From the two shining ones, thousands are given; the dawn moves swiftly, shining gently. From those two, thirty offspring and thousands are given, as the dawn continues its gentle, swift journey. Thus, Soma flows, ever-purified and generous, bestowing strength, wealth, and divine favor upon those who honor him.