O Soma, born from the sacred utterances of the poets, you surge forth with strength, a bearer of treasures among the gods. With eager force, you rush into the waiting vessels, while the falcon, your symbol, spreads its protective wings wide, and your voice resounds over the bowls in a jubilant cry. Around you, Soma, your juice is poured and pressed into the vessel; like a swift falcon, you flow out, swift and radiant. Flow on, Soma, delighting all, most honeyed of offerings, especially for mighty Indra. Your streams pour forth, seeking divine favor, striving like swift chariots in pursuit of victory. The pressed juices, bright and intoxicating, ride on the wind’s breath. Stirred by the stone and praised in hymn, you journey to the filter, Soma, bringing heroic strength to those who sing your praise. You, Soma, stirred and lauded, approach the filter, destroyer of demons and unfailing in your protection. Whatever comes near or far, whatever fear may arise, let none of it touch me here—O purifying one, drive all harm away. Today, O wise purifier, cleanse us with your sacred filter; as the purifier, cleanse us thoroughly. O Agni, your radiant filter is spread within; with that sacred power, purify us. With your shining filter and with sacred chants, O Agni, grant us purification. And you, divine Savitar, with both your filter and the ritual itself, cleanse me from every side. With your three most exalted abodes, O Savitar, and with Soma’s powers, O Agni, purify us by your skill. May all the divine beings purify me; may the Vasus purify me with wisdom; may all the gods cleanse me; and you, Jātavedas, purify me. Soma, flow forth and pour out with all your streams, offering the highest oblation to the gods. We have approached the beloved, ever-youthful one—Soma—who increases our offerings, bearing our reverence. Flow on, divine Soma, destroying the axe of the unskilled and even the harm of the smallest mouse. Whoever recites the Pavamani verses, the essence gathered by the seers, eats all that is purified and sweet, together with Mātariśvan. To such a reciter, Sarasvati bestows milk, clarified butter, and honeyed water. The sweet Soma drops, like cows, flow toward the god, as milch-kine to their calf. Settling on the sacred grass, with speech and vessels, the shining ones place the pure, unsullied offering. Soma roars aloud, surpassing all who came before; the tawny one, delighted, rises, loosening what is sweet. Passing through the filter, circling with wide might, the god lays down his darts, seeking the best. He who measures out the mingled draught swells together with milk, the wise one distinguishing the great, boundless realms; advancing, he bestows unfailing strength. Moving with his mothers and winning riches, Soma swells his path with his own power. The drop, adorned with barley, sits with its kin, protecting the head where men purify. Born of skill and mind, the sage—the embryo of truth—was set by the restrainers; though young, they were the first-born, hidden in secret, their birth yet to be revealed. The wise discern the form of the delightful one, when the falcon brings the drop from afar; they cleanse him, ever-growing, in the rivers, the most eager drop, circling, fit for the hymn. You, Soma, are cleansed by ten maidens, pressed and set by the seers with thoughts and prayers; with waters, coverings, and divine invocations, men seek you where they see wealth, striving for attainment. The wise praise Soma, the good companion, well-lauded as he moves; with a honeyed wave, by his flow, he raises his voice—the immortal, rich in treasures. This Soma raises his voice to the expanse of heaven; purified, he sits in the vessels. Washed with waters and cows, pressed by stones, the drop, Soma, finds the beloved path. As you are poured, Soma, grant us splendid vigor; may we invoke undivided Heaven and Earth. O gods, bestow upon us wealth and heroic sons. As an arrow is fitted to the bow, so is thought directed to the offering; as a calf seeks its mother in the stall, so is Soma sought in the rites, as a cow with abundant milk yields her first stream. The thought approaches, sweet and melodious, stirred within the vessel. Purified, flowing, Soma spreads; like one who strikes, the sweet, rich drops pass through the filter. The bridegroom flows around the skin, loosening it, offspring of Aditi, striving for truth. The tawny one, harnessed and born of sacrifice, shines with controlled strength, like a mighty bull. The bull bellows, the cows approach, the divine ones go to the god’s place. Soma crosses the bright filter, the unfailing barrier; like a garment washed, he spreads out. With immortal, shining garment, the tawny, undying one, purified, spreads wide. He touches the heights of heaven, his seat prepared, the cloud’s covering woven from the sky. Like the sun’s rays—swift, eager, full of desire—they move together. The threads are stretched, the streams flow; nothing is purified without Indra’s abode. Like river currents in descent, the streams, driven by strength, rush to their goal. May Soma bring us blessing in our home, for two-footed and four-footed alike; may wealth and people abide with us. Purify for us, Soma, wealth with gold, horses, cattle, barley, and mighty strength. For you, Soma, are the fathers of mine, standing on the summit of heaven, creators of life. These purified Somas go forth to Indra, like chariots to victory. Pressed, they move through the filter unhindered, leaving the enclosure, the tawny ones go to the rain. Flow, Soma, for mighty Indra—gentle, faultless, bestower of gifts. Bring shining treasures for the singer; may Heaven and Earth, with all the gods, protect us always.