From the heights of the sky, streams of milk and ghee descend, their essence drawn from lofty realms. At the very navel of truth itself, immortality is born, a radiant core from which eternal life springs. The generous, those of noble spirit, gather in harmony around this wondrous presence; with friendly voices, men join in praise, their songs rising in delight. A single shining drop, roaring in its journey, merges with the swelling wave. This divine one, Soma, nourishes the very skin of humankind, bestowing vitality and vigor. He is the one who places the embryo in Aditi’s womb, through whom we receive our offspring and descendants, the continuation of our lineage. With a thousand streams, Soma and his companions move together, their flow abundant and fruitful, especially in the third region of the cosmos. Four sacred navels are set in the sky, each bearing offerings; from them, immortal ghee flows ceaselessly, a sign of divine sustenance. When Soma desires, he takes on a white, luminous form. He, the generous Asura, knows the earth intimately. By the force of thought, he joins with the branches, singing praises in harmony with the world. He has witnessed the binding of heaven itself, shining in his splendor. Then the white vessel, marked with the signs of cows, is pressed; the swift and victorious Soma moves forth. With minds united, the worshipers urge him on, seeking the wealth of a hundredfold cows for Kakṣīvān. Blended with waters, the pressed Soma juice, O flowing one, runs freely through the filter, unimpeded. Cleansed by the poets, exhilarating above all, Soma is made sweet for Indra to drink, the purified one ready for the king of gods. Beloved by all, Soma is purified with skill, bearing many names in which his might increases. He ascends to the lofty chariot of the great sun, the far-seeing one turning in every direction, illuminating all. The tongue of truth itself is purified, honeyed speech flowing forth, belonging to the unassailable lord of thought. The son places the most fitting name of his parents as the third in the shining realm of heaven, honoring lineage and divine order. Below, the shining vessels resound, guided by men, moving within the golden container. The milkers of the immortal one approach, and upon the triple-backed dawn, Soma shines forth. Pressed by stones, purified by thoughts, Soma, skillfully prepared, illuminates his two mothers—earth and heaven—in their purity. His streaming locks rush forth together, swelling with honey day by day. Soma, flow around the vessel for our well-being, purified by human hands, enveloping the head with your fragrance. With your exhilarating, swift-flying powers, urge Indra on, that he may grant us abundant wealth. Soma, the upholder of heaven, the skillful juice, is purified, worthy of praise from gods and men alike. Released, the tawny one, like a strong horse, does not waste his powers as he moves through the rivers. Like a hero eager for glory, Soma takes up his weapons, charioteer in the contests. Proclaiming Indra’s might, he is impelled by the wise; the pressed drop is stirred by the inspired. O purified Soma, with your wave, enter Indra’s abodes, striving with power. Like lightning in a cloud, moisten earth and heaven for us; with your thought, always bring us riches. The king of all, perceiving the light, is purified, choosing the inspiration of truth by the seer’s will. Cleansed by the sun’s brightness, he becomes the father of thoughts, unique in his wisdom. Like a bull among herds, Soma rushes around the vessel, roaring, the bull at the lap of the waters. Purified for Indra, most exhilarating, he aids us to conquer in battle. Here in the vessel, the honeyed one bellows—Indra’s bolt, most splendid of the splendid. The strong ones, milking the immortal, rush forth like cows eager for their calf. He, the ancient one, is purified, whom the falcon brought from heaven, set in motion by the churner across the sky. He comes, youthful with honey, trembling in mind, the slender one pressed by the eager. May those ancient and later drops flow for us, bringing great prizes in the rich field. Worthy of sight, like swift horses, they delight in prayer, enjoying offering after offering. This knowing drop, ever victorious, is purified for us, praised by many minds. He who placed the embryo in the seat of being overflows the wide stall of the cows, abundance manifest. The skillful juice is purified for heaven, great and unassailable; Varuna is invoked. Mitra is present among the tribes, worthy of sacrifice, roaring with might like a bull in the herd. The king, generator of speech, has arisen, clothed in waters, approaching the cows. He grasps the foe, binding the hostile, pure, and goes to the gathering of the gods. Soma, you are poured for Indra by men, wave-seen, seer, purified in the wood. Your streams are many, a thousand horses, your bays bringing the hosts. Celestial nymphs, wise and seated within the waters, have released Soma in their midst. They urge him on to the pillar of the house, seeking the unaging favor of the purified one. Soma, winner of cows, chariots, gold, sunlight, water, and a thousandfold more, is purified; the gods made him, the most delightful drop, reddish and joy-bringing for drinking. These true riches, O purified Soma, you bring to us, granting wealth. Strike down the enemy, whether near or far; grant us broad pastures for cattle and fearless security. Let the drops, unurged, flow for us, the bright ones pressed for the great heaven. Let streams of nourishment spread for us, adversaries scattered, Arya’s foes destroyed, and our thoughts fulfilled. Let the flowing drops bring us wealth, by which we may harness swift horses. Let us overcome the concealment of mortals and bring forth all kinds of riches. Soma is the enemy of his own enmity and of another’s enmity; he is a wolf to foes. Flowing, let not thirst overpower you; O purified Soma, strike down those hard to overcome. In heaven is your navel, the highest you have taken; your shoots have grown on the slopes of earth. The stones press you on the hide of the cow; in the waters, the wise milk you with their hands. Thus, O drop, the foremost adornments enhance your beautiful, splendid juice. O purified one, carry us safely over every danger; let your strength and dear exhilaration be manifest. The stream of Soma, visible to men, flows, invoking the gods with truth, encompassing the sky. With the roar of Brihaspati, it shines forth; the oceans, like libations, are stirred. You, strong one, whom the cows have approached, ascend the shining womb, unharmed. May the life and fame of the generous be prolonged; Soma, you are purified as a mighty exhilaration for Indra. In Indra’s belly, the most exhilarating Soma is purified, bearing nourishment for auspicious fame. Facing forward, he spreads through all worlds; playful, tawny, swift, the bull flows on. You, most honeyed for the gods, are milked by ten fingers, streaming a thousandfold. Pressed by men with stones, Soma, flow for all the gods, victorious by the thousand. You, honeyed one, milked by the stones with ten fingers in the waters, the bull—Soma, you gladden Indra and the divine people. Like a wave of the river, purified, you flow on. The waves of purified Soma, splendid, go to Indra’s belly. Raised with curds and fame, the pressed ones gladden the hero for the gift of cows. Soma has reached the jars, like a charioteer bearing the unaging, swift-turning, strong one. Knowing both births of the gods, he attains both here and beyond. Come to us, O purified Soma, bring us wealth; be generous, bestower of great gifts. Grant us strength, O wise one, for the Vasus; protect us from death and do not cast us away. Let Pūṣan, generous, come to us, O purified one, along with Mitra and Varuṇa in harmony; Brihaspati, the Maruts, Vāyu, the Aśvins, Tvaṣṭṛ, Savitṛ, Yama, and Sarasvatī—may all the gods gather, drawn by the flowing, radiant Soma, for the well-being of all.