Purify yourself for sustenance, O radiant Indu, cleansed by the wise—come forth with your shining energy to the cows. As you are purified, you widen the path, O singer, generating strength for the people; O tawny one, pour out the swift, life-giving stream. Purified for divine favor, go forth, O Indu, along Indra’s path, shining, yoked with the steeds. By Agni, Agni is kindled—the sage, the youthful lord of the house, the carrier of offerings, who receives the ladle in his mouth. Whoever, O Agni, worships you with offerings as the divine messenger, be his true protector. To those who invoke you with offerings for divine favor, O pure one, grant happiness. I call upon Mitra, pure in skill, and Varuṇa, the destroyer of foes, and the radiant insight that brings success. By truth, Mitra and Varuṇa, who themselves grow and touch truth, have attained vast power. Wise and of mighty birth, dwelling in spacious homes, Mitra and Varuṇa, grant us skill and remove all hostility. Together with Indra, you are seen united, shining with equal brilliance, coming unafraid. They have entered again into the womb according to their own law, bearing the sacred name, worthy of sacrifice. Even the hidden one, O Indra, you have found with your fires, breaking open the enclosure and following the cows. I invoke those two by whom all this was accomplished of old—Indra and Agni. Fierce, destroyers of obstacles, we call Indra and Agni; may they grant us favor. You strike down the hostile Vṛtras, you strike down the Dasyus, O true lords; you strike down all enemies. The pressed, exhilarating Somas flow forth, wise ones, brimming with delight, upon the ocean’s surface, eager and overflowing with ecstasy. Purifying, you cross the ocean with your wave, O king, O god, great in truth; flow on by the ordinance of Mitra and Varuṇa, impelling the great truth. The king, god of the ocean, adorned by men, splendid and discerning, is manifest. He utters three voices: the fire sends forth the inspiration of truth and the wisdom of the priest; the cows go to their lord, inquiring, and the thoughts, longing, go to Soma. The cows, the milch-kine, longing, go to Soma; the wise, with their thoughts, inquire after Soma; Soma, pressed and purified, is praised, and to Soma, the hymns and triṣṭubh verses are joined. So, Soma, as you are poured out and purified, flow for our well-being; enter Indra with your vast intoxication and generate abundant speech for us. If, Indra, you had hundreds and hundreds of heavens and earths, not even a thousand suns could match your greatness—nor both worlds together at their birth. You have expanded with your mighty power, O vigorous one, most powerful by your strength; protect us, O generous one, in the cattle-rich prize, O wielder of the bolt, with splendid aids. We, having pressed Soma, approach you as waters approach the altar; at the outpourings of the purifier, O slayer of Vṛtra, your worshippers are assembled. O Vasu, when you are pressed, men call to you with hymns. When will you, who are longed for, come to our home, Indra, resounding like the sound of a bamboo flute? With the Kanvas, O mighty one, we have seen you—the banner-bearer, the thousand-gifter, Maghavan, of tawny form, O wise one; swiftly we seek the wealth abounding in cattle. The swift one, eager to win, seeks the prize with Purandhi as his yokemate; to you, Indra, much-invoked, I bow with song, as to a well-fashioned, firm wheel-rim. No ill-praised one is praised among the wealthy, nor does a failing treasure remain; O Maghavan, for you, the mighty, let there be for the generous what is best in the highest heaven. Three voices rise up: the cows low, the milch-cows call, and the tawny one bellows aloud. The Brahman-prayers have followed—the young mothers of truth—purifying the child of heaven. O Soma, from every side pour forth for us the four oceans of wealth, abounding in thousands. The most honeyed, pressed Somas, delightful for Indra, with filters—let your exhilarations reach the gods unfailing. “Indu is pressed for Indra,” so said the gods; the Lord of Speech rejoices in the sacrifice, the master of all strength. With a thousand streams the ocean flows, seeking speech; Soma, lord of treasures, with Indra as friend, day by day. Your filter is spread out, O Lord of Prayer; you move around all bodies as master; one whose body is unheated, the weak does not attain that; those who are purified, carrying the offering, reach it together. The heat-filter is spread in the seat of heaven; its threads, shining, are extended; the purifying flames, as its filters, ascend the back of heaven with their brilliance. The first-born bull of Prishni shone forth at dawn, roaring for strength in the worlds; the magicians measured him by their magic; the seers, with human sight, placed the embryo. Sing to the greatest, the most glorious, the upholder of order, the radiant, the mighty; those praised approach Agni. Maghavan, famed for heroic men, is kindled, summoned with glory; may his favor come to us, may he approach with prizes. We praise that exhilaration of yours, O mighty one, strong in the press, victorious, creator of worlds, O stone-armed, of golden splendor.