Soma, the sacred and exhilarating juice, begins his journey, flowing around the vessel for the well-being of all. Purified by devoted hands, his fragrance envelops the head, bringing comfort and delight. With his swift and exhilarating powers, he urges mighty Indra to grant wealth and blessings to those who honor him. This skillful juice, upholder of heaven, is purified and praised by gods and men alike. Released, tawny and strong, Soma moves like a powerful horse, never wasting his energy as he courses through the rivers. Like a hero, he gathers his weapons, eager for glory, and becomes the charioteer in contests, proclaiming Indra’s might. Guided by the wise, the pressed drop is stirred by inspired minds. Purified Soma, with your flowing wave, enter the abodes of Indra, striving with power. Like lightning moistening the earth and heavens, bring us riches always, guided by your thought. The king of all, seeing the light, is purified; he chooses the inspiration of truth by the seer’s will. Cleansed by the sun’s brightness, he becomes the father of thoughts, unique in wisdom. Like a bull among herds, Soma rushes around the vessel, roaring at the lap of the waters. Purified for Indra, he is most exhilarating, empowering us to conquer in battle with his aid. Here in the vessel, the honeyed one bellows—Indra’s bolt, most splendid. Flowing with ghee, the strong ones rush like cows for milk, the good milker of the immortal. He, the ancient one, is purified, whom the falcon brought from heaven, set in motion by the churner across the sky. Youthful, honeyed, trembling in mind, the thin one is pressed by eager hands. May those ancient and later drops flow for us in the rich field, swift as horses, delighting in prayers and offerings. This knowing drop, ever victorious, is purified for us, praised by many minds. He placed the embryo in the seat of being, overflowing the wide stall of the cows. The skillful juice is purified for heaven, great and unassailable, invoking Varuna. Mitra is present among the tribes, worthy of sacrifice, roaring with might like a bull in the herd. The king, generating speech, arises, clothed in waters, approaching the cows. Grasping the foe and the bonds of the hostile, pure, he enters the gathering of the gods. Soma is poured for Indra by men, wave-seen, seer, purified in the wood. With many streams, a thousand horses, and bays, he brings the hosts. Celestial nymphs, wise and seated within the waters, release Soma in their midst. They urge him toward the pillar of the house, seeking the unaging favor of the purified one. Soma, winner of cows, chariots, gold, sunlight, water, and a thousandfold, is purified. The gods made him the most delightful, joy-bringing, reddish drop for drinking. These true riches, purified Soma, you bring to us, granting wealth. Strike down enemies near and far; grant us broad pastures and fearless security. Let the drops, unurged, flow for us—the bright ones, pressed for the great heaven. Let streams of nourishment spread, adversaries be scattered, Arya’s foes destroyed, and our thoughts fulfilled. Let the drops bring us wealth, harnessing swift horses; let us overcome concealment and bring forth all kinds of riches. Soma is the enemy of enmity, both his own and another’s, for he is a wolf. Flowing, let not thirst overpower you; strike down those hard to overcome. In heaven is your navel, the highest you have taken; your shoots grow on the slope of earth. Stones press you on the cow’s hide; in the waters, the wise milk you with their hands. Thus, O drop, adornments enhance your splendid juice. Carry us safely over every danger; let your strength and 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 is 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, flowing on. Most honeyed for the gods, milked by ten fingers, streaming a thousandfold, pressed by men with stones, Soma flows for all the gods, victorious by the thousand. You, honeyed one, are milked by stones with ten fingers in the waters, the bull. You gladden Indra and the divine people; like a river’s wave, you, purified, flow on. The waves of purified Soma go to Indra’s belly, raised with curds and fame, gladdening the hero for the gift of cows. Soma reaches the jars like a charioteer bearing the unaging, swift-turning, strong one. Knowing both births of the gods, he attains both here and there. Come to us, purified Soma, bring us wealth; be generous, bestower of great gifts. Grant us strength for the Vasus; do not let death come upon us, nor cast us away. Let Pūṣan, generous, come to us, purified one, along with Mitra and Varuṇa in harmony; Brihaspati, the Maruts, Vāyu, the Aśvins, Tvaṣṭṛ, Savitṛ, Yama, and Sarasvatī. Both Heaven and Earth, all-pervading, Aryaman, Aditi, the Ordainer, Bhaga, Nṛśaṃsa, the wide midspace, and all the gods—may they delight in the purified one. The tawny, mighty Soma flows forth with his two bay steeds, roaring like a powerful king. Purified, he circles the unfailing filter, like an eagle reaching his nest full of ghee. Inspired, he seeks the greatness of the wise creator, rushing toward the prize like a well-adorned steed. Soma drives away harm, brings mercy, clothed in ghee, passing around the filter. Parjanya is the father of the horned, leaf-bearing bull; at the navel of earth, he dwells in the mountains. The waters, his sisters, come together, sitting with the stones at the sacred rite. Like a wife with her husband, Soma is gracious for our greatness. Listen, O embryo of strength; move within the vessels for a good life, blameless, awaken. As in former times, O drop, you have brought hundreds and thousands of prizes without fail; so now, purify yourself for new prosperity, as the waters follow your command. Your filter is spread out, Lord of prayer; you encompass all forms, unharmed, carried together by those who strain you. The filter of heat is stretched at the seat of heaven, shining threads spread out. The swift ones guard the purifier with their minds, standing at heaven’s touch. The bright, speckled bull shines forth at dawn, bearing the worlds, eager for strength. Magicians measure him by their magic; fathers with human sight place the embryo. Thus the Gandharva guards his place, the wondrous one preserves the births of the gods. The lord of treasures seizes the foe, tasting the best portion of the honey.