In the ancient days, as in this new moment, the sacred hymn is prepared and the paths are made straight for Soma, the all-encompassing one. With his abundant deeds and strength, Soma is invoked to help us overcome those who are mighty and difficult to conquer by nature. As Soma is purified, he is asked to grant us the heavenly waters, abundant offspring, and flourishing descendants. Let him bless our fields and spread wide the light, bringing us the radiant sun so that our eyes may behold its glory. The tawny Soma, when poured out, flows through the filter like a chariot released, striving for gain. Once purified, he attains the hymn and power; the gods accept him with their offerings. He moves to the filter, bearing his sacred name, the seer within the poet’s womb. Like a priest sitting in the house among vessels, he is approached by the seven wise sages. Soma, now purified and wise, always comes to the hymn for all the gods. He delights in every song, stretching forth among the people, five in number. To this purified Soma, all the gods have come—three and eleven, and ten with their own powers upon the mountain summit, while the seven mighty rivers cleanse him. Let this truth be known of Soma: where all poets unite, when light was made for the day, the world was created, and Manu led the Karabhika for the Dasyu. The sacrificer, like a house, brings forth wealth, and the true king comes to the assembly. Purified Soma enters the vessels, sitting like a deer or buffalo in the forests. Together, the ten sisters—thoughts of the wise—flow and cleanse. The tawny one circles the vessel of the sun, measuring it like a horse eager for the prize. Like a child rejoicing with his mothers, the bull, abundant in gifts, flows with the waters. Like a young man with a maiden, Soma moves eagerly to the vessel with the cows. The wise Indu fills the nourishing one’s udder, joining with the streams. The cows, rich with milk, anoint his head in the vessels, bestowing riches as with ointment. O radiant Indu, purified with the gods, bring us wealth as the Ashvins do, rejoicing. May the generous, swift provider bring us the riches of the gods for our enjoyment. Now, Soma, bring us wealth abundant in men, purified and delightful in all ways. Praised Indu, prolong our lives; may the wise and swift come to us in the morning with good thoughts. When, upon this, the thoughts contend—like clans at the sun, seeking glory—the poet, choosing the waters, flows with his hymn, as a herd increases for cattle. With a twofold expansion, Soma reveals the immortal realm; the worlds are spread out for the seeker of light. Nourishing thoughts, like cows in their pasture, approach Soma, moving in accordance with truth. When the inspired one brings forth his works—like a hero with his chariot—he traverses all the worlds, bringing fame among the gods and adornment to mortals, ever new in his abundance. Born for splendor, Soma advances with radiance, bestowing vigor upon singers. Clothed in this splendor, they attain immortality; true in their assemblies, the two friends are united. Seek nourishment and strength, bring forth the horse and the cow, widen the light, and delight in the gods. For all these, O purified Soma, are easily conquered by you; you drive away all enemies. The tawny one advances to be released, purifying himself in the wooden belly. When pressed by men, he clears the path, and from him, inspired thoughts are born by their own power. As he is released, Soma moves along the path of immortality, raising his voice like a boat upon the waters. The god reveals the secret names of other gods, which are proclaimed upon the sacred grass. The waves of water, surging with thoughts, move toward Soma. Bowing down, they approach and unite; the shining ones enter the shining one. They milk him, the purified one, like a mighty bull on the mountain; the flowing, bountiful one dwelling on the heights. Thoughts cling to him as he rushes forward; Trita bears Varuna in the ocean. Desiring speech, as an assistant repeats for the priest, the purified drop expands understanding. When Soma and Indra dwell together for good fortune, may we be lords of heroic strength. The leader and hero stands at the front of the chariots; his army rejoices, seeking cattle. Soma, invoked by Indra, brings blessings to his friends, giving them splendid garments with zeal. Together, his tawny ones cleanse him with reverence and tireless strength. He stands upon Indra’s chariot as a wise friend, going straight to that good favor. O god, purify yourself for our divine kinship, flowing for Indra’s drink and our abundance. Creating the waters and causing the sky to rain, purify this wide expanse for our welfare. Purify yourself for conquest, for safety, for well-being, for universal protection, for greatness. All friends praise you, O purified Soma. Soma is purified—the generator of thoughts, of heaven and earth, of Agni, the sun, Indra, and Vishnu. He is the priest among gods, the path of sages, the seer among the inspired, the bull among beasts, the eagle among vultures, the sustainer among forests—Soma, roaring, surpasses the filter. He spreads forth his speech like a wave of the river; Soma’s thoughts become songs. Seeing within, he distinguishes the higher from the lower; the knowing bull stands among the cows. That exhilarating one, victorious in battles, new in strength, with a thousand streams, has reached the prize. O drop, purified for Indra, stir up the wave, seek the cows and nourishment. Beloved in the vessel, driven by the divine wind, Soma delights for Indra’s intoxication. With a thousand streams and a hundred prizes, the drop, like a champion, wins the contest with his team. He, ancient and wealth-giving, is born and purified in the waters, flowing upon the stone; the protector from curses, king of the world, grants a hymn to the priest when purified. By you, Soma, our wise forefathers of old performed their deeds, conquering foes and surpassing barriers. Be for us, O generous one, with heroes and horses. As you have flowed for Manu, slayer of foes, knowing the paths, so now flow bearing wealth, stand firm with Indra, and generate weapons. Flow, Soma, sweet with truth, clothed in waters, upon the unshaken summit; descend into vessels filled with ghee, most intoxicating, eager for Indra’s drink. Pour down rain from the sky, a hundred-streamed, thousand-powered, prize-bringing in the divine assembly; mingling with the rivers, enter the vessel, bringing sustenance to life. This Soma, purified by thoughts, overcomes adversaries like a racing horse; swift-flowing like milk drawn from the cow, he widens the path like a well-trained carrier. Armed with his own weapons, purified by the pressers, he advances, revealing the beautiful, secret name; like a victorious chariot, he approaches the wind and the cows, O god Soma. The Maruts, with their troop, cleanse and adorn the newly-born, golden child—the fire. The sage, with words and poetry, Soma, roaring, passes through the filter, ever resplendent.