O Soma, from every side we call upon you: pour out for us the four vast oceans of wealth, each brimming with thousands of treasures. Let the most honeyed and delightful Somas, pressed and filtered, bring their exhilarating essence unfailingly to the gods, especially to Indra, for whom they are so pleasing. It is said by the gods, "Indu is pressed for Indra," and in this sacrifice, the Lord of Speech himself rejoices, he who is master of all strength. Like an ocean with a thousand streams flowing in search of speech, so does Soma, the lord of treasures, move day by day, ever accompanied by Indra as his friend. Your sacred filter, O Lord of Prayer, is spread wide, embracing all beings as their master. Only those who are purified and carry the offering together can reach your cooling, unheated essence; the weak do not attain it. This filter, glowing with heat, is set in the very seat of heaven, its shining threads stretched out, and the purifying flames rise as filters, ascending the back of heaven with their brilliance. At dawn, the first-born bull of Prishni shone forth, roaring for strength throughout the worlds. The magicians measured him with their arts, while the seers, using human vision, placed the embryo within. Sing to the greatest, the most glorious, the upholder of cosmic order—radiant and mighty Agni—whom the praised ones approach. Maghavan, famed among heroic men, is kindled and summoned with glory. May his favor come to us, and may he approach bearing prizes. We praise your exhilarating strength, O mighty one, victorious in the press, creator of worlds, stone-armed and golden in splendor. With your discernment, you revealed the lights for Ayu and for Manu, delighting in this sacred seat, shining forth in radiant glory. So today, as in days of old, thoughtful singers raise their voices in praise; and day by day, the waters—spouses of the mighty—win their rewards. Hear our invocation, O Indra, for those who worship you. You are truly great; fulfill us with abundant heroic power and wealth of cattle. O Indra, he who creates a new and delightful song, who fashions a wise, ancient, and nourishing thought of truth—let us praise him, the one whom hymns have strengthened. Seeking his many gifts, let us strive to win his favor. O Pavamana, the divine cows of the Ashvins have flowed forth with milk upon the altar; from the atmosphere, the ancient ones stream down, cleansed by the inspired and skillful. On both sides of the pure one, steadfast rays circle like banners as the tawny one is purified upon the filter, seated in the vessels, established in the womb. All abodes and banners of the skillful and mighty circle around the steadfast one, Soma, who flows widely by his law. Lord of all beings, you are king of the world. From the sky, Pavamana has generated a wondrous, thunder-like sound—a great, universal light. O Pavamana, your juice, your exhilaration, O king, rushes unimpeded through every barrier. Your radiant essence shines forth with skill, all-seeing, granting the vision of heaven. When, like eager cows, the swift and strong ones rush forth, they strike off the black skin, revealing the light within. We seek the favor of the generous one, that we may cross the difficult barrier and overcome the lawless foe. The mighty sound of Pavamana is heard like the roar of rain, and lightnings move through the sky. Flow for us, O Soma, with great riches: with cattle, gold, horses, and heroes. Flow, all-cherishing one, filling the great heavens and earth, shining with your rays like the dawn and the sun. With your all-encompassing stream, grant us shelter, Soma; flow across the wide expanse as your juice spreads everywhere. Rush forth, mighty one, with your lofty mind, encircle us with your beloved abode, where the gods are said to dwell. Purify what is impure, drive away evil for the people, and pour down the rain from heaven. This is he who, purified through the filter, swiftly flows around the sky; the wave of the river has spread wide. The pressed juice comes pure, bearing radiance and strength, shining forth, discerning and illuminating all. The pressed juice is poured for Indra from far and near, as honey flows. In harmony, the stones press the tawny one; Soma is prepared for Indra to drink. The sisters, skilled and wise, press the hero, lord of offspring; the great Soma is prepared by the mighty ones. Pavamana, shining with brilliance, is pressed for the gods and distributes all treasures among the people. O Pavamana, bring excellent praise and rain to the gods; flow for the gathered offering. The guardian of the people is born—vigilant Agni, skilled and radiant, anointed with ghee, touching the vast sky, shining pure for the Bharatas. You, Agni, were found hidden by the Angirasas, adorned in every forest; born when churned, mighty, called the son of strength, O Angiras. Men kindle Agni, the sign of sacrifice and the first priest, in the triple seat; with Indra and the gods, he sits on the sacred grass as the wise hotar for worship. This pressed Soma, Mitra and Varuna, grown by truth, is offered to you. Hear my invocation here.