The radiant essence of you, O Pavamana, shines forth with supreme skill, your light all-seeing, granting vision even of heaven’s farthest reaches. When, like eager cows released, the swift and strong ones rush forth, they strike away the blackness, revealing brightness beneath. We seek the favor of the generous one, that we might cross difficult barriers and overcome the lawless foe. The mighty sound of Pavamana resounds, as thunderous as the roar of falling rain, while flashes of lightning dart across the sky. Flow for us, O Soma, bearing great riches—cattle, gold, horses, and heroes. Flow, all-nourishing one, filling the vast heavens and earth; shine with your rays like the dawn and the sun. O Soma, with your all-encompassing stream, grant us shelter, spreading everywhere across the expanse like nourishing juice. Rush forth, mighty one, with lofty mind, encircling your beloved abode, where the gods themselves are said to dwell. Purifying what is impure, driving away evil from the people, pour down the rain from heaven. This is he, purified through the filter, swiftly flowing around the sky; the river’s wave spreads far and wide. The pressed juice comes, pure and radiant, bearing strength and illuminating all, discerning as it shines. For Indra, the pressed Soma is poured, from distant places and near, flowing as sweet honey. In harmony, the tawny one is pressed with stones; Soma is prepared for Indra to drink. The skilled sisters press the hero, the lord of offspring; the mighty Soma is prepared by the great ones. Pavamana, shining with brilliance, is pressed for the gods and distributes all treasures to the people. O Pavamana, bring excellent praise and rain to the gods; flow at the gathered offering. The guardian of the people is born—vigilant Agni, skilled, bringing new prosperity; his face anointed with ghee, he touches 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, the first priest, in the triple seat; with Indra and the gods, he sits on the sacred grass as the wise hotar, ready for worship. This pressed Soma, Mitra and Varuna, grown by truth, is offered for you; hear my invocation here. The two kings, unassailable, sit firm in the highest seat, supported by a thousand pillars. These sovereign Adityas, lords of gifts, delight in the unbroken stream of ghee. Indra, with Dadhichi’s bones, unconquered, struck down ninety-nine foes. Desiring the horse’s head, hidden in the mountains, he found it with the help of the falcon. Here they sought the name of the cow, the offspring of Tvashtar, and thus, in the house of the moon. This is the ancient praise of Indra and Agni, born from the mind of the lovely one, like rain pouring from a cloud. Hear the invocation of the singer, Indra and Agni; accept these songs and nourish our thoughts. Do not bring us to evil, Indra and Agni, nor to reproach; do not harm us in our dwelling. O tawny one, flow forth, skillfully accomplished, for the gods to drink; let your exhilaration be for the Maruts and for Vāyu. With the gods, the strong poet shines forth, beloved in his place of birth, pure and unassailable. O purified one, set in motion by thought, roaring, you approach your womb, ascending to Vāyu by your own law. For your friendship, O Soma, O tawny Indu, I seek your favor day by day; many delights come to me—bring me that circle of joy. For you, O Soma, I come by night and by day to your stream, O tawny one; with longing I soar beyond the burning sun, like a bird. Purifying himself, the wise one steps forth, overcoming all hostilities; with their thoughts, the inspired ones adorn him. The reddish one mounts the womb, the strong one comes to Indra, pressed and ready to sit in the firm seat. Now, O Soma, pour out for us great wealth from every side; flow forth, bringing thousands. Drink the Soma, O Indra; let it exhilarate you, pressed for you by the stone, swiftly led by the presser’s skilled arms. May that exhilaration of yours, yoked and lovely, by which you, O swift-bayed Indra, slew the Vṛtras—may that, O mighty one, delight you. Hear well, O bountiful one, this praise of mine, which Vasiṣṭha offers to you; accept these hymns at the shared feast. All the hosts of men, together with their companions, have fashioned Indra for kingship; for strength, for the highest station, for wide might, fierce and powerful, swift with force.