The skillful Soma, its sacred juice purified for the heavens, rises with grandeur, unassailable in its might. Varuna is invoked, and Mitra dwells among the tribes, worthy of sacrifice, like a powerful bull in the herd, roaring with strength. As king, Soma generates speech and emerges, clothed in waters, approaching the cows. He seizes the foe, binding the hostile, remaining pure, and proceeds to the gathering of the gods. Poured by men for Indra, Soma is seen in waves, a seer purified on the wooden altar. Its countless streams surge forth, like a thousand horses and their bays bringing the hosts. Within the waters, celestial nymphs, wise and attentive, release Soma in their midst. They urge him onward to the pillar of the house, seeking the unaging favor of the purified one. Soma, winner of cows, chariots, gold, sunlight, and water—a thousandfold—is purified. The gods fashioned him, the most delightful drop, reddish and joy-bringing, for their drinking. These true riches, O purified Soma, are yours to bestow upon us. Grant us wealth, strike down our enemies whether near or far, and provide broad pastures and fearless security for our cattle. Let the bright drops flow freely for us, pressed for the great heaven. Let the nourishing streams spread, scattering adversaries, destroying the Arya’s foes, and fulfilling our thoughts. Let the flowing drops bring us wealth, enabling us to harness swift horses. May we overcome the concealment of mortals and bring forth all kinds of riches. Soma stands as enemy to his own enmity and that of others, like a wolf. Flowing, may thirst not overpower you; O purified Soma, strike down those hard to overcome. Your navel is in heaven, and you have taken the highest seat. Your shoots grow on earth’s slopes, pressed by stones on the cowhide. In the waters, the wise milk you with their hands. O drop, your foremost adornments enhance your splendid juice. Purified one, carry us safely through every danger; let your strength and dear exhilaration be manifest. The stream of Soma, visible to men, flows, invoking the gods with truth and encompassing the sky. With Brihaspati’s roar, it shines forth, stirring the oceans like libations. Strong one, approached by the cows, you ascend the shining womb unharmed. May the generous have prolonged life and fame; Soma, you are purified as mighty exhilaration for Indra. In Indra’s belly, the most exhilarating Soma is purified, bearing nourishment for auspicious fame. He spreads through all worlds, playful, tawny, swift—the bull flows on. Honeyed for the gods, you are milked by ten fingers, streaming a thousandfold. Pressed by men with stones, Soma, flow for all the gods, victorious by the thousand. Honeyed one, milked by stones with ten fingers in the waters, the bull, Soma—you gladden Indra and the divine hosts. Purified, you flow like a river’s wave. Splendid waves of purified Soma go to Indra’s belly. Raised with curds and fame, the pressed ones gladden 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, O 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, the 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 Heaven and Earth, all-pervading, Aryaman, Aditi, the Ordainer, Bhaga, Nṛśaṃsa, the wide midspace, and all the gods 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 one, you seek the greatness of the wise creator; like a well-adorned steed, you rush toward the prize. Soma, drive away what is harmful and bring us mercy, clothed in ghee as you pass around the filter. Parjanya is the father of the horned, leaf-bearing bull; at the navel of earth, his dwelling is set in the mountains. The waters, his sisters, gather together and sit with the stones at the sacred rite. Like a wife with her husband, be gracious for our greatness. Listen, O embryo of strength, as I speak. Move within the vessels for a good life, O Soma, blameless among people, awaken. As in former times, O drop, you have brought hundreds and thousands of prizes without fail. Now purify yourself for new prosperity; the waters follow your command. Your filter is spread out, O Lord of prayer; mighty, you encompass all forms. Like one whose body is unscorched, no harm touches him; those who strain you carry that together. The filter of heat is stretched at heaven’s seat; its shining threads are spread out. The swift ones guard the purifier with their minds, standing at the touch of heaven. The bright, speckled bull shines forth at dawn, bearing the worlds, eager for strength. Magicians measure him by their magic, and the fathers with human sight place the embryo. Thus Gandharva guards his place, the wondrous one preserves the births of the gods. The lord of treasures seizes the foe and tastes the best portion of honey. The offering, rich in offerings, goes around the great divine abode. Clothed in the sky, you move through the sacrifice, king, with chariot of the filter, mounting strength. With a thousand streams, you win great fame. Purify yourself, O Soma, delight of the gods, wise among people, in the waters, for Indra, Varuna, and Vayu. Grant us wide protection and well-being today; praise the divine race, O far-seeing one. Standing among the worlds, immortal Soma flows around all. Making the gathered and the scattered, he seeks desires, shining forth like the sun at dawn. Pressed with cows, in the plants, seeking the favor of the gods, the wise one comes near. Soma, pressed with lightning, flows in a stream, delighting Indra and the divine race. This Soma is purified, winning a thousand, stirring inspired word, awakening the silent. The drop rises to the ocean with the winds and sits in the jars in Indra’s heart. The cows, rich in milk, approach this Soma, nourisher of milk, with their thoughts, knowing the sun. The victorious juice is purified—the sage, the poet, shining with the sun. O Soma, well-pressed for Indra, flow around, free from harm, overcoming demons. Let not the two-faced ones enjoy your juice; let the generous drops be here. Urge us on in battle, O purified one, for you are the wise delight of the gods. Strike down our enemies, break the bonds, let Indra drink Soma, protect us, destroy our foes. O uninjured drop, purified, most intoxicating, you become the highest inspiration for Indra. Many wise ones sing to you, king; you settle in the heart of the world. The thousand-streamed, hundredfold, wondrous Soma, beloved for Indra, is purified as desired sweet drink. Conquering, he approaches the field, conquering the waters—grant us a wide path, O generous Soma.