In reverence and gratitude, the priests poured out the full measure of the sweet Soma for Indra, the mighty and bounteous lord. Through his noble deeds and heroic powers, Indra had grown in greatness, his glory expanding across the vast earth. With his own strength, he scattered the hosts of battle, and many sought his friendship, striving to gain his favor. In the midst of conflict, Indra’s supporters stood firm, like a chariot driven onward by his gracious blessing. The hymn was sent forth to the gods, swift as thought, as a sacred offering. Those who possessed the great law of Mitra and Varuna were invoked to grant wide and splendid praise. The priests, eager and reverent, prepared their offerings, watched over by the tawny, beautiful-winged one. With strong hands, they poured out the wave of drink, approaching the waters and the ocean to worship the Son of the Waters. He, the radiant one who shines among the waters without fuel, was invoked to grant honeyed streams—the very streams by which Indra’s strength was increased. Soma rejoiced and exulted in these streams, like a youth among lovely maidens. The priests brought Soma to the waters, that its purity might be enhanced by the herbs. Young maidens, summoned and eager, bowed down, joining their minds and purpose with the priests and the goddesses of wisdom and waters. Indra, who opened paths from closed places and released the waters from the great curse, was offered the honeyed, exhilarating drink. The rivers poured forth the honeyed wave, the embryo and fountain of their own essence, rich in ghee and worthy of sacrifice. The exhilarating, Indra-drinking wave, set in motion by the rivers and sent forth by both worlds, flowed with intoxication, born of the sky, weaving its thread around the source. The rivers, now divided into two streams, moved like cattle to their stall. They were mothers of sages, wives of the world, sharing the same seat and deserving praise. The waters were asked to pour forth the sacrifice and prayer for wealth, to unite with truth and be free from error, ready to listen. Shining waters, bearers of wealth, good counsel, and immortality, were honored as the wives of the lord of prosperity. Sarasvati was invoked to grant the glory that is praised. When the waters, bearing ghee, milk, and honey, flowed visibly, joining with the priests in mind, they brought the pressed Soma to Indra. The shining, life-giving waters arrived; the priests seated them, placed the Soma offerings on sacred grass, united with the Son of the Waters. The eager waters sat at the sacrifice, desiring to serve the gods, and the priests pressed Soma for Indra, their god-pleasing sacrifice accomplished. May the blessing of the gods approach the worshipful with all their might for protection. With their friendship, may misfortunes be overcome. Let mortals seek wealth through truth and reverence, not unrighteous means, and speak with resolve, grasping superior wisdom. Inspired thought flowed forth, hymns streamed to the sacred place, seeking the gracious one. The favor of the generous and wise was approached, and the worshippers felt as if immortal. The ever-youthful, self-controlled master of his household, begotten by Savitar, was honored. May Bhaga or Aryaman not withhold cows from him, but cover him with beauty. May the earth be as abundant as the dawns when the powerful gather, and may swift prizes come to those who seek praise. The ancient favor spread forth, like the vast cow, companions moving together in sustenance. The question arose: what was that forest, and who was that tree, from which heaven and earth were fashioned? They stand firm, undecaying, with mighty supports, as many days and dawns have aged. There is nothing greater than this; the bull upholds heaven and earth. The self-sustaining ones make a skin, a filter, and the bright ones carry the sun as if it were a horse. Like a bull, he does not tire of the earth; like wind, he moves freely through space, where Mitra and Varuna are worshipped, and Agni, like a fire in the forest, has not released his heat. When the charioteer drives the team swiftly, he makes the restless steady, protecting his own. When the son was born before the parents, the cow lowed gently as the calves were questioned. Some said Kanva was the son of a human, and Shyava, the victorious, gained wealth. The bright ones poured forth for the dark one; in this, none surpassed the worshippers. Let the eager and wise come forth with their gifts, delighting in the best. Indra, may you be pleased with both, when you have tasted the Soma drink. Indra, you travel through the shining realms of heaven and earth; those who bear you at sacrifices, strong in voice, please you and drive away the hostile. Let it be more wondrous than wondrous, when a son learns the knowledge of his parents. The wife carries her husband with zeal; may the noble pair carry good fortune. That shining seat, where the cows stand ready to be yoked, is where the mother of the herd, the ancient one, gives birth to the seven-formed voice. The abode fit for the gods was proclaimed; Turvani goes alone with the Rudras. Whether old age or death is among them, honey is poured for the flames. Hidden in the waters, the guardian of the gods’ order spoke; Indra explained it, and by that instruction, Agni was approached. He who does not know the field but is guided by the knower proceeds rightly. This is the good of instruction, finding the straightforward path. Today, the living one has eaten, grown, nourished by his mother; though young, old age has come upon him, and the generous, good-minded one has become weary. Auspicious rites were performed, gifts of abundance given. May generous donors continue, and may the Soma in the heart be so. No one bound the singer among people; he carried on without Pūṣan, seeking the gods’ protection when the cry of the lawless was raised. On all sides, torment pressed in, like rival wives gnawing at his ribs. Helplessness oppressed him, nakedness brought shame, and his mind trembled like a horse. Like mice gnawing at the body, the hundred-powered one’s singer was attacked. Once, O generous Indra, show mercy; be to us as a father. Thus, through praise, invocation, offering, and yearning, the story of sacrifice, divine favor, and the eternal flow of wisdom and blessing is woven, connecting gods, waters, earth, and humankind in sacred union.