All around, the pressed Soma is poured, the highest offering, noble and radiant, flowing within the waters and stirred by the stones. Now, Soma, purified and shining, spreads in fragrant waves; in the pressing, we rejoice in you, O Soma, pouring forth, strained with the milk of cows, rising to the uppermost heights. Poured out for vision, Soma delights the gods, wise and discerning. Purifying, he flows in a streaming current, clothed in the waters, seated at the very source of immortality—the golden spring, divine and eternal. Milked from the heavenly udder, dear and ancient honey settles in the sacred place; the wise, swift Soma, pressed by men, seeks the welcoming support. Ever-awake, unharmed, beloved, Soma has become a sage, most Angiras-like; with his sweetness, he strengthens our sacrifice. Gracious and purified, Soma bestows the path, a seer and sage, discerning and poetic, the best guide of the gods—he raises us to the sun in heaven. Pressed by the priests with stones, Soma flows forth like a horse adorned with golden trappings, moving in a delightful stream. In the lowlands, Soma, rich in cows, is guarded by milk-givers; like rivers rushing to the ocean, the exhilarating ones hasten together in joy. Pressed with stones, Soma passes beyond unyielding barriers; like a people in a city, the bright one finds a broad seat, dwelling in the woods. Cleansed, passing through narrow places like a sheep in the pen, swift for the prize, the purifying Soma is praised by the wise and inspired singers. For the guidance of the gods, Soma swells like a river in flood, lively with the milk of the stalk, approaching the vessel streaming with honey as one newly awakened. He reaches the shining, white filter, beloved as a son to be cleansed; the waters drive him as a chariot, carrying him among the rivers. The flowing Somas, eager for intoxication, are purified; on the summit of the ocean, the wise, longing for the sun, bearers of light. Purifying, O king, you cross the ocean with your wave, O god, great in truth; following the law of Mitra and Varuna, you send forth the great truth. Guided by men, the golden, discerning king, belonging to the ocean, advances. Soma’s exhilaration, pressed for Indra and the Maruts, flows with a thousand streams; unconquered, he rushes forth, cleansed by the flowing ones. Purifying, generating the troop, sage Soma delights among the gods; clothed in waters, surrounded by cows, he sits above, established in the woods. To you, Soma, I declare my friendship, O tawny Indu, day by day; many are the paths that come to me—remove the encircling bonds, come here. Both night and day, O tawny Soma, I seek your friendship at the udder; with fervor, I soar beyond the burning sun, like a bird. Cleansed with good hands in the ocean, you stir the voice; O purifying one, you seek abundant, variegated, much-desired wealth. Cleansed in the unchanging water, O bull, you make a wheel in the wood; adorned with cows, Soma flows to the seat of the gods. Flow forth for the gaining of strength, surpassing all poetic works; Soma, the first to hold the ocean, is pressed for the gods, exhilarating and bright. So you flow, Soma, with your laws, through the earthly and divine realms; wise priests, with insight, set you in motion, bright one, with their thoughts. The flowing ones stream through the filter with their current; accompanied by the Maruts, the exhilarating, powerful steeds bring forth wisdom and all paths. Clad in waters, the drop rushes around the vessel, the Moon, advancing with the pressers; generating light, delighting the cows, Soma made the path clear, as one opening the enclosure. Flow, Soma, most sweet, for Indra, bestower of strength, with the most exhilarating intoxication, with the mightiest, most shining delight. By drinking you, the bull becomes more vigorous; those who drink become finders of light; he, of excellent insight, advances to the gifts, straight to the prize, like a swift steed. You, O purifier, are of divine origins, most radiant; you proclaim immortality. By you, the Navagvas and Dadhyanc were fulfilled; by you, the sages attained; by you, the gods gained favor and lovely immortality, by you, they gained renown. Pressed with the stream, Soma flows most exhilarating, unclouded, playing like a wave of waters. With strength, he cut through the two tawny ones between the stones, stretching to the cattle-pen, to horses; armored, he breaks through with boldness. Come, pour out, let the praise flow like a swift horse, powerful, traversing space, leaping over the wood, surging up. A thousand-streamed, bull, rich in milk, beloved for the birth of the god; by truth, he who is born of truth has grown great—the king, the god, the vast truth. Shine forth upon the glory, O lord of riches, with great fame, O god, worthy of worship; enter the middle vessel, young one. Speak forth, O skillful one, pressed in the vessel of Camva, like the fire of the people, lord of the clan; flow as the rain of heaven, as the course of waters, inspire thoughts for the quest of cattle. Unfailing in intoxication, a thousand-streamed bull, milked from the sky, bearing all treasures. The bull was born, generating the immortal, dispelling darkness with light; well-praised by poets, he sets forth the path, by the power of the triple foundation. Pressed, Soma is the bringer of riches, leader of treasures, giver of desires, well-settled among the gods. He, whose Indra drinks, whose Maruts, whose Bhaga, the bestower of boons; by whom Mitra and Varuna are pleased—may we make Indra our great helper through him. Thus, Soma flows, radiant and wise, purifying, strengthening, and guiding, delighting gods and men, bearing immortality and truth, and opening the paths to light and glory.