The mighty Soma, pressed and potent, streams forth into the purifier, prepared for the gods to drink. Divine in his essence, he sweeps away the forces of darkness, the demons, with his power. This golden, discerning Soma, radiant and wise, rushes through the filter with a thunderous roar, hastening towards his destined place, his cosmic womb. As a swift steed, Pavamana, Soma races through the shining realms of heaven. He is the slayer of demons, ever reaching the unfailing goal. Upon the summit of Trita, this Pavamana, together with his kin, has illuminated the sun itself, spreading light across the worlds. Soma, the mighty bull, pressed and victorious over Vritra, grants vast expanses to the invincible, surging forward like a powerful horse. Inspired by the sage, this god rushes towards the sacred vessels, magnifying Indra as he moves, for he is Indu, the one who delights the king of the gods. The one who recites the Pavamani hymns, the sacred essence gathered by the seers, truly partakes of all that is purified and delightful, sustained by the very breath of life. To such a reciter, Sarasvati herself bestows milk, clarified butter, honey, and water—the nourishing gifts of the divine. These Pavamani hymns, bearers of welfare and ever-yielding, flow with ghee. Their sacred essence, gathered by the wise, is placed as immortality among the Brahmins. May these hymns establish for us both this world and the next, uniting the goddesses brought together by the gods. With that very stream, the thousand-flowed filter by which the gods always purify themselves, may the Pavamani hymns cleanse us as well. Through these hymns, bringers of welfare, one attains delight, partakes of blessed food, and reaches immortality. With reverence, we approach the youngest, the radiant one kindled in his own home, shining brightly between heaven and earth, invoked from all directions. By his greatness, Agni, the summoner, removes all evils from the house. O knower of beings, may he protect us from harm and misfortune, and grant us gifts as we praise him. You, Varuna and Mitra, and you, Agni, are honored by the Vasisthas with their thoughts. May your treasures be most delightful; may you always protect us with your blessings. Great is Indra by his strength, like a rain-bringing cloud; by our praises he grows strong, like a calf nourished by milk. When the Kanvas, with their hymns, made Indra the accomplisher of the sacrifice, let the kinsman speak of the weapons. When the sacred fires, bearers of the immortal, bring forth the offspring, the inspired ones uphold the cosmic order with their strength. The bright, purifying streams of Soma have flowed, ever-fresh and flaming, old yet renewed. The purifier, best of charioteers, radiant with shining rays, golden-bright, leads the host of Maruts. O purifier, spread your rays, bestower of strength, granting heroic power to our hymn of praise. Pour out the pressed Soma, the highest offering. The noble one, holding it, has pressed Soma with stones in the waters. Now let the purified one flow freely, most fragrant, delighting even in the pressing, adorned with cows, tasting the highest Soma. The resounding, far-seeing, wise Soma, delight of the gods, flows for vision. Lively and tawny, a vigorous bull with his two bays, like a mighty king, Soma calls out to the cows; purified, he seeks unfailing shelter, soaring like an eagle to the seat rich in ghee. Parjanya is the father of the horned buffalo, the navel of the earth, dwelling in the mountains; his sisters, the waters, flow towards the cows, and he abides with the pressing stones at the sacred rite. O inspired one, you seek the greatness of the wise creator, rushing like a well-adorned steed toward the prize. Soma, driving away harm, grant us happiness; clothed in ghee, you circle the trough. All people gaze upon Indra as they do the sun. Born with strength, he has reached the sources of wealth, and we, too, have won our share. Praise the generous giver of wealth, Indra’s bounties are auspicious, and he who does not restrain his desire for him urges his mind to giving. From whomever we fear, O Indra, make us safe; O bountiful one, drive away our foes and adversaries for our aid. For you, lord of riches, hold great wealth and prosperity; you, generous Indra, singer of praises, we invoke with pressed Soma. You, Soma, are the supporter, most delightful and powerful at the sacrifice; flow forth, bringing joy and wealth. Pressed and exhilarating, most inspiring, O Soma, the victorious drop, ever protected, flows on. Well-pressed with the stones, you resound forth, bringing radiant might. Flow, O Soma, for the gods’ enjoyment, with your streams and strength; come into the vessel, sweet Soma, our honored seat. Your shining drops, O Soma, have swelled for Indra’s exhilaration; you, whom the gods have drunk for immortality. Come to us, purified Soma drops, bring us wealth; let the rain-filled heavens and flowing waters, givers of light, draw near. Around that tawny, desirable steed, they purify with the filter—he who, with all the gods, goes forth filled with exhilaration. Twice five waves, self-glorious and friendly, pressed by the stone, pour out the beloved, desired by Indra. For Indra, for drinking, O Soma, slayer of Vṛtra, you are poured out—for the man with the right hand, for the hero, for the one who sits in the honored seat.