At the break of dawn, the most beloved of sisters arises, setting the path in motion with her radiant birth, heralding the beginning of sacred action. In this vast world, one wonders: for whom do all these realms exist? They are here for Indra and all the gods, for whom the gifts are destined, streaming towards them as rivers flow along their courses. To Indra, let offerings come, as freely and surely as water runs its path, so that by the grace of the gods we might attain the prize they have established, rejoicing in strength and abundance, blessed with noble heroes. Mitra and Varuna, in their generosity, pour forth nourishment; and so, Indra, may you provide us with rich food. Indra reigns supreme over all. In the Trikadruka sacrifice, that mighty one, powerful and eager, drank the barley-mixed soma with Vishnu, delighting in the sacred pressings and preparing for a deed of great strength. God accompanied god, the true drop united with true Indra. This one—vast, wise, a vision and a thought, a shining upholder of order—gathered together the dawns, pure and insightful, each in their own place, resolute and searching for the hidden cow. Indra, come to us from afar; come as the lord of the assembly, as king and true master, called by us like sons calling their father for the greatest prize. We call to Indra, the generous and mighty, who holds all things together, unconquered and famed. May he turn towards us with wealth, and as the wielder of the thunderbolt, open all good paths before us. Let there be attentive hearing; let us place Agni at the forefront of our thoughts, and choose that divine strength, invoking Indra and Vayu. When they join the new navel of the shining one, our thoughts truly reach the gods. May our thoughts go forth to the great Vishnu, to the Maruts, born of the mountain, to their troop for sacrifice, for strength, and for the bestowal of blessings, to those who uphold vows and possess might. With golden radiance, purified, he overcomes all hatreds with his team, shining like the sun, his streams glittering upon his back as he moves through all forms with his seven songs and seven mouths. I praise Savitar, the mighty god of wise action, true in impulse, bearer of treasures, whose thoughts soar high and whose commands flash forth. The golden-handed, self-radiant one, good in action, has measured out the heavens. And I consider Agni, the priest, generous and strong, knower of all births, wise in ritual, compassionate and bright-flamed, who calls forth the clarified butter. That first, ancient deed of yours, heroic Indra, is spoken of in heaven: by your divine might you broke open the waters, making the world overflow with strength and nourishment. Thus, to Indra at the festival, O Pavamana, you, born of the pressing, have placed your seat in heaven and earth, bringing great protection and fame. With the sweetest, most delightful stream, flow, Soma, pressed for Indra to drink. Flow with strength for the Maruts, bearing all powers, surging forth with energy. With your most excellent exhilaration, flow forth with the sacred drink, O god, heroic one, destroyer of curses. Three voices are raised: the cows low, the milch-cows bellow, and the tawny one comes roaring. O Soma, flow for Indra and the Maruts, most sweet, having settled in the womb of the chant. This bright drop, skillfully prepared for exhilaration, settles in the waters like an eagle in its mountain nest. Flow, O tawny one, accomplishing skill, for the gods to drink; let the exhilaration be for the Maruts and for Vāyu. The resounding Soma, mountain-born, has flowed through the filter; in its exhilaration, it pervades all. The beloved sage of heaven, set among the offspring, moves with sound; the wise one, with inspired will, goes forth. The pressed Somas, rich in exhilaration, advance for our fame, O generous one, in the assembly. Like buffaloes, the wise Somas lead forth the waters as waves, breaking through the woods. Flow, O Soma, strong and pressed, make us renowned among people and drive away all hatreds. Truly you are strong with brilliance; we call upon you, O purified one, radiant with light, who makes heaven visible. The drop, entering the filter, conscious and dear to poets, sends forth thought as a charioteer guides his horse. The swift Somas, winning cattle and horses, bright and strong, have flowed forth, eager for heroism. Flow, O god, for long life; may your exhilaration reach Indra, and ascend to Vāyu by the right path. The purified one has generated the wondrous heaven, thundering forth the great universal light. The resounding drops, with their splendor and sweet voices, stream forth in their flow. The sage has sent forth the river waves, having taken his place; bearing the poet, desiring much, he holds fast. The gods have sought the Soma, born at dawn, purified by the cows, filtered and adorned, the first portion of the sixth pressing. Purifying himself, the wise one advances beyond all hostilities; the inspired sage is glorified with hymns. The pressed Soma enters the vessel, flowing with all glories, offered to Indra with devotion. Like a charioteer, the pressed Soma is set in motion in the filter of the pressing stones, advancing swiftly like a steed, carrying the prayers and hopes of the faithful to the gods.