In times of drought, the name of this mighty one, Soma, is renowned and revered. His presence is implored not to be lost in the lake or hidden in the cleft, for he is the one who lulls the secret forces into rest, transforms hostility into friendship, and drives away all that is senseless. Purified, he journeys through the three wide filters as a single, united current. He is Bhaga, the bestower of blessings; he is Maghavan, the generous giver—ever abundant, ever gracious. Wise Soma, knower of all things, is thus purified, becoming king over the entire world. His drops, stirred in the gatherings, move together, seeking the unfailing shelter. The mighty and unerring pressers handle the drop with care; they roar at each step like inspired poets, not as scavengers. With ten skillful fingers, the wise ones guide the flow, adorning Soma with the essence of the waters. With you, O purified Soma, may we always discern the fruits of our offerings. May Mitra, Varuṇa, Aditi, Sindhu, Earth, and Heaven protect us and never bring us harm. O Indu, bring to us the wealth that bestows many prizes—splendid, abundant, and secure on a thousand supports—overcoming all obstacles. Flowing forth, pressed and unaging, Soma is like armor stretched on a chariot; set in the vessel, he descends and protects with his streams. Overflowing with exhilaration, his shining current rises in the ritual, seeking the cows, the symbols of wealth and sustenance. O god, grant ever more wealth to the mortal who serves you; Indu, you bestow treasures a thousandfold, in countless forms. O slayer of Vṛtra, we yearn to be near your manifold, much-desired wealth, to dwell in the closest abundance of your favor. Twice five radiant sisters, united by the stone, pour out the beloved, swelling wave of Indra. They purify the tawny, golden Soma with their streams, and filled with exhilaration, he journeys forth with all the gods. By his help, may you protect us, O bringer of skill, whose fame is great among the seers—O golden, tawny one. In your sacrifices, O Indu, the two worlds, Earth and Heaven, were born; god and goddess, mountain-dwelling, ever advancing, mighty in sound. Soma, you are poured out for Indra to drink, for the slayer of Vṛtra, and for the generous man who offers, for the god who sits in his sacred seat. In ancient times, at dawn, those Somas flowed in the purifier—abundant, pressed, and surging forth in the morning, unknowing. May we, O friends and seers, enjoy that widely-shining one; may we attain the fragrance of strength and the wealth of vigor. For the tawny, bold one, strength is stretched out; the great ones weave the bright, unpressed, clear stream for the mighty lord at the forefront. Adorned through the night, the prize comes forth when the thoughts of Vivasvat urge the tawny one onward. We cleanse that exhilaration, most pleasing to Indra, which the cows have held in their udders, in ancient times and now, O seers. Purified by the ancient song, Soma is praised, and inspired thoughts, bearing the names of the gods, rejoice in him. Streaming in the unaging current, the mighty one is purified; as a messenger, mindful of what is to come, the wise ones direct him. Purified, Soma, most intoxicating, settles in the cups; like a bull depositing seed, he inspires speech and wisdom. He is cleansed by skillful acts, the god pressed for the gods; when poured out, he penetrates the great waters. Pressed, O Indu, you are guided through the filter by men; most exhilarating for Indra, you settle in the cups. The honest call upon you for Indra’s delight; like mothers licking a newborn calf, they cherish the one newly born. Purifying, O Indu, bring forth Soma, the twice-strong wealth; you nurture all riches in the house of the worshipper. You release wisdom yoked with mind, like rain from thunder; you, Soma, foster both earthly and heavenly riches. As the stream of the pressed one flows, so your current rushes forth, swift as a racing horse through the filter. For resolve, for skill, for us, O wise Soma, purify with your stream—pressed for Indra, and for Mitra and Varuṇa as well. Purify, bestower of strength, in the filter with your stream, pressed Soma—for Indra, for Vishnu, for the gods—most honeyed. Mothers cherish you, the tawny one, in the filter, O pure one; like cows a newborn calf, O purifying one, in your course. Purifying one, you go forth with great fame and brilliant rays; you strike down hostile powers in every house of the worshipper. With a mighty vow, you embrace sky and earth; you remove the covering, O purifying one, with your greatness. Let the leaders ready the Soma for pressing, for joy; friends, drive away the long-tongued dog. Flowing forth with stream and fire, Indu, like a horse, is fit for action. Men approach that Soma, free from anger and full of universal wisdom; they urge the sacrifice with stones. The pressed Somas, sweet as honey, gladden Indra; filtered, they flow—may your delights reach the gods. Indu is purified for Indra, as the gods have declared; lord of speech, master of sacrifice, ruler of all power. With a thousand streams, Soma is purified—the ocean, seeking speech. Soma is lord of riches, companion of Indra, day by day.