For the delight of the gods, the exhilarating Soma is sent forth; clothed in the richness of cows, he is prepared for offering. Purifying within the vessels, the tawny, radiant Soma spreads out his garments, enveloping himself in the essence of cows. Generous and potent, Soma flows for us, driving away enemies and uniting us in friendship. With human vision, we partake of Soma, just as Indra, the knower of light, drinks him—he nourishes our offspring. We call upon Soma to pour rain from the sky and strength upon the earth, granting us might in battles. Soma, ever-purifying, flows with a thousand streams, exceedingly powerful, belonging to Vayu and Indra. Joyfully, we sing to the inspired, purifying Soma, the sage, celebrating the divine feast. The Somas, purifying for the prize and endowed with a thousand powers, are praised at the divine feast by those who sing. O Soma, flow for us, bringing great riches, abundant nourishment, and shining strength. Swiftly moving like racing horses, Soma is not restrained; he surges forth, unimpeded, for the gaining of wealth, his waves full of energy. May these drops of Soma bring us a thousandfold treasure and heroic strength, O gods. Like mothers embracing their calf, the Soma drops hold him in their hands. Purified and roaring, Soma delights Indra and destroys our haters. The radiant, purified ones, driving away the hostile, sit upon the bed of the pressing stone. The pressed Soma drops, rich in sweetness, flow for Indra with the stream of truth. The inspired ones call upon Indra to drink Soma, just as cows call to their calf. Soma, wise, abides in his seat, flowing with the river’s wave, resting upon the tawny one. The wise poet Soma is magnified in the unclouded expanse at heaven’s navel. That Soma placed within the jars, inside the purifier, is embraced by Indu. Indu will send forth speech from the ocean’s surface, urging the honey-flowing vessel onward. The ever-praised tree presses the cow that yields abundantly within, urged on by human aid. O purified Soma, grant us wealth with a thousand powers, O Indu, our own possession. The wise poet Soma, pressed with the stream, moves toward the beloved of heaven, the distant one. Soma’s powers rise up like the sound of river waves, urging the press-stone with song. At Soma’s stirring, three voices rise up, eager for sacrifice, as he ascends to the summit. With unclouded waves, the stones urge the dear tawny one, the honey-flowing, purified Soma. O most exhilarating one, flow forth; with your purifier, O wise one, establish the source of the sun. Adorned with cows and with nights, Soma flows forth and enters Indra’s belly. With the filter, Soma pours around, bringing delight, descending freshly arrived. For Divodāsa, Soma shattered Śambara, and then Turvaśa and Yadu. Pour around us, O Soma, knowing horses and cows, possessing gold, streams of thousandfold nourishment. Driving away obstacles, Soma flows unopposed, going to Indra’s abode. Bring us great wealth, O purifying one; defeat our foes and grant us heroic fame, O Soma. Neither a hundred nor stolen riches diminish Soma as he purifies himself for giving. Flow with that purifier by which you made the sun shine, stirring human waters. The sun yoked Etaśa, the purifying one, mindful for travel through the midspace. Bay horses are yoked to the chariot; the sun is yoked for travel; Soma is called 'Indra.' Make Agni, the god of fires, united, the most fit for sacrifice, the messenger at the ritual—steadfast, mighty, exalted, radiant, pure, and butter-fed among mortals. Like a horse snorting in the pasture, Agni shines forth, born of greatness, separated from Saṃvaraṇa; the wind follows his flame, and his black path is established. O Agni, newly born and mighty, the undying kindlings move for you; red smoke rises to the sky. As a messenger, Agni, you go to the gods, carrying our offerings.