Behold the radiant god, shining forth in his own womb, immortal and beloved above all by the gods, the mighty slayer of Vritra. Urged on by his kin in tenfold ways, he roars mightily and rushes toward the sacred vessels, his energy unstoppable. This Pavamana, through his brilliance, has illuminated the sun in the sky; within the purifier, exhilarating joy stirs and awakens. United with the radiant sun, he beams together with Vivasvat, master of speech, unassailable in his glory. Praised and purified by sages, this divine one delights in the purifier, cleansing all and striking down his foes. He who wins the light is poured forth for Indra and Vayu, displaying his skill within the purifier. This Soma, the bull pressed by men, is led through the woods, knower of all things, head of heaven itself. Desiring cows, Pavamana shines, golden-hued Indu, victorious in the assemblies, poured out in offering. Purified and powerful, this golden one surges through the midspace, seeking Indra, ever cleansing. Soma, purified, surges for the unassailable—godly, heroic, and a dispeller of evil speech. Pressed and mighty, he flows in the purifier for drinking, divine and a destroyer of demons. Discerning and golden, he flows roaring toward his destined womb. Like a steed, Pavamana runs through the shining realms of heaven, slayer of demons, reaching the unfailing goal. On the summit of Trita, Pavamana has illuminated the sun together with his kin. Soma, the bull and slayer of Vritra, grants wide space to the unassailable, rushing like a swift steed. Inspired by the sage, the god rushes toward the vessels, Indu magnifying Indra. He who recites the Pavamani hymns, the essence gathered by the seers, truly partakes of all that is purified and delightful, sustaining life itself. To such a reciter, Sarasvati grants milk, clarified butter, honey, and water. The Pavamani hymns are bringers of welfare, ever-yielding and flowing with ghee; this essence, gathered by the seers, is set as immortality among the Brahmins. May these Pavamani hymns establish for us this world and the next, these goddesses brought together by the gods. By that with which the gods always purify themselves through the filter, with a thousand-streamed flow, may these hymns purify us as well. Through the welfare-bringing Pavamani hymns, one reaches delight, partakes of blessed foods, and attains immortality. We have come with great reverence to the youngest, who shines brightly, kindled in his own home—the radiant one between heaven and earth, invoked from all sides. By his greatness, Agni, the summoner, removes all evils from the house; may he, knower of beings, protect us from harm and misfortune, and grant us gifts as we praise him. Varuna, Mitra, and Agni, the Vasisthas honor you with their thoughts; may your treasures be most delightful, and may you always protect us with blessings. Indra is great by his strength, like a rain-bringing cloud; by the hymns of praise, he has grown strong like a calf. When the Kanvas made Indra the accomplisher of the sacrifice through their hymns, the kinsman speaks of the weapons. When the fires, bearers of the immortal, bring forth the offspring, the inspired ones uphold the order with their strength. The bright streams of the purifying one have flowed, striking, ever-fresh with their eternal flame. The purifying one, best of charioteers, shines most radiantly, golden-bright, in the company of the Maruts. O purifying one, spread out your rays, bestow strength, and grant heroic power to our hymn of praise. Pour around the pressed Soma, the highest offering; the noble one who holds it presses Soma with stones in the sacred waters. Now let the purified one flow freely with his fragrant streams, delighting in the pressing, tasting the Soma, adorned with cows, the highest. Soma, resounding, far-seeing, and wise, delight of the gods, flows for vision. Lively, tawny, and vigorous as a bull, with his two bays, like a mighty king, he calls out to the cows. Purified, he seeks the unfailing shelter, soaring like an eagle to the seat rich in ghee. Parjanya is the father of the horned buffalo, navel of the earth, establishing his dwelling in the mountains. The waters, his sisters, flow toward the cows, and he abides with the pressing stones at the sacred rite. O inspired one, you seek the greatness of the wise creator; like a well-adorned steed, you rush towards the prize. Soma, driving away harm, grant us happiness; clothed in ghee, you move around the trough. All people gaze at Indra as at the sun; born with strength, he has attained the sources of wealth, as we have won our share. Praise the generous giver of wealth, for the bounties of Indra are auspicious; he who does not restrain his desire for him urges his mind to giving. From whom, O Indra, we are afraid, from him make us safe; O bountiful one, drive away that for our aid, scatter our foes and adversaries.