As the sacred Soma is poured out and purified, it flows for the well-being of all, entering Indra with its vast, intoxicating essence and generating abundant speech for the worshippers. Indra’s greatness is extolled: even if he possessed hundreds upon hundreds of heavens and earths, not even a thousand suns could match his brilliance, nor the worlds together at their birth rival his might. Indra has expanded with his formidable power, vigorous and most powerful by his strength. He is called upon to protect his devotees in their quest for cattle-rich prizes, wielding his thunderbolt and offering splendid aids. Having pressed Soma, the worshippers approach Indra as waters approach the altar; at the outpouring of the purifier, the slayer of Vṛtra, the faithful gather in reverent assembly. Indra, the Vasu, is summoned with hymns when Soma is pressed; men eagerly call for his presence, longing for him to come to their homes, resounding like the music of a bamboo flute. Alongside the Kanvas, the mighty Indra is seen: the banner-bearer, the thousand-gifter, Maghavan of tawny form, wise and generous. Swiftly, the seekers pursue wealth abounding in cattle. The eager one, swift to win, seeks the prize with Purandhi as his yokemate. To Indra, much-invoked, the worshippers bow with song, as to a well-fashioned, firm wheel-rim. Among the wealthy, only the well-praised are honored; failing treasures do not endure. For Maghavan, the mighty, let the generous receive 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 follow, the young mothers of truth, purifying the child of heaven. Soma is invoked to pour forth from every side the four oceans of wealth, abounding in thousands. The most honeyed, pressed Somas, delightful for Indra, are filtered so their exhilarations may reach the gods unfailingly. The gods themselves declare, “Indu is pressed for Indra,” and the Lord of Speech rejoices in the sacrifice, master of all strength. With a thousand streams, the ocean flows, seeking speech; Soma, lord of treasures, with Indra as friend, flows day by day. The filter is spread out, O Lord of Prayer; Soma moves around all bodies as master. The weak, whose body is unheated, cannot attain it; only those purified, carrying the offering, reach together. The heat-filter is spread in the seat of heaven, its shining threads extended; purifying flames, as filters, ascend the back of heaven with their brilliance. At dawn, the first-born bull of Prishni shone forth, roaring for strength in the worlds. Magicians measured him by their magic; seers, with human sight, placed the embryo. The greatest, the most glorious, the upholder of order, radiant and mighty, is praised; those lauded approach Agni. Maghavan, famed for heroic men, is kindled and summoned with glory. May his favor come to the worshippers, may he approach with prizes. The exhilaration of the mighty one, strong in the press, victorious, creator of worlds, stone-armed and golden in splendor, is praised. By his discernment, Indra reveals the lights for Ayu and Manu, delighting in this seat, shining forth in splendor. Thus, today, as before, thoughtful singers praise; the waters, spouses of the mighty, win day by day. Indra is invoked to hear the prayers of his worshippers, to fulfill them with abundant heroic strength and wealth of cattle. He who creates newer, delightful songs, who fashions wise and ancient, nourishing thoughts of truth, is praised. Indra, strengthened by hymns, is sought for his many gifts, and the worshippers strive to win his favor. Pavamana, the divine, sees the Ashvins’ cows flow forth with milk upon the altar; from the atmosphere, the ancient ones stream, cleansed by the inspired and skillful. On both sides of the pure one, steadfast rays circle as banners when the tawny one is purified upon the filter; he sits established in the womb, in the vessels. All abodes, all-seeing, the banners of the skillful and mighty, circle around the steadfast one. Soma flows widely by his law, lord of all beings, king of the world. Pavamana generates from the sky a wondrous, thunder-like sound, a great universal light. His juice, his exhilaration, rushes through every barrier, unimpeded. The essence of Pavamana shines forth skillfully, radiant, the light all-seeing, for the vision of heaven. When, like eager cows, the swift and strong ones rush forth, they strike off the black skin. The favor of the well-bestowed one is sought, to cross over the difficult barrier and overcome the lawless foe. The mighty sound of Pavamana is heard like the roar of rain; lightnings move in the sky. Soma is invoked to flow with great riches—cattle, gold, horses, heroes. Flow, all-cherishing one, and fill the great heavens and earth; shine forth with your rays like the dawn and the sun. With your all-encompassing stream, Soma, grant shelter; flow over the expanse like juice spreading everywhere. Rush forth, mighty one, with your lofty mind, encircle with your beloved abode, where the gods reside. Purifying what is impure, driving away evil for the people, pour down the rain from heaven. This is Soma, purified through the filter, swiftly flowing around the sky; the wave of the river has spread out, bringing blessings and abundance to all.