O purified one, set in motion by thought and roaring with power, you approach your sacred womb, rising by your own law to Vāyu. Each day, O Soma, tawny Indu, I seek your friendship and favor, for you bring many delights—grant me that circle of joy. Night and day I come to your flowing stream, O Soma, drawn by longing, soaring beyond the burning sun as a bird flies in yearning. Purifying himself, the wise one steps forth, overcoming all hostilities, and the inspired ones, with their thoughts, adorn him. The reddish one mounts the womb, the strong Soma comes pressed to Indra, taking his seat in the firm place. Now, O Soma, pour out for us great wealth from every side—flow forth, bringing thousands. Indra, drink the Soma; let its exhilaration uplift you, the drink pressed by the stone, skillfully guided by the presser’s arms. May that exhilarating power of yours, yoked and lovely, which once slew the Vṛtras, delight you, O mighty, swift-bayed Indra. Hear well, O bountiful one, this praise which Vasiṣṭha offers you—accept these hymns at the shared feast. All the hosts of men, with their companions, have fashioned Indra for kingship, for strength, for the highest station, for wide might—the fierce, the powerful, swift with force. The wise ones bow the rim with their gaze, intoning the chant; your blameless, shining followers, O vigorous one, join the song with attentive ears. Together, the singers call Indra to drink Soma, as he, steadfast in his vow, grows strong with his bands and might. He is the king of peoples, rider on chariots, unwearied destroyer of hosts, the foremost, the slayer of Vṛtra—him I praise. Glorify that Indra, rich in gifts, in whose hand the bolt is set by the wise ordainer—the great god, radiant as the sun. The dear poet of heaven, set in the paths of offspring, moves with his own sounds, possessing the wisdom of poets. The pure son, born from his mothers, shines at birth, great and mighty, grown by the cosmic order. You, unwearied, are poured out for the undiminished, blameless people, O invigorating one, for their increase. Indeed, O Pavamana, you are the most radiant among divine births, proclaiming immortality. By you, the Navagvas and Dadhyanc were filled; by you, the inspired ones attained; by you, the gods’ favor and the lovely nectar were gained, and by you, fame was acquired. Soma, purified, rushes through the filter with his wave, and at the forefront, Pavamana, roaring, calls out. With prayers, they cleanse the vigorous one in the wooden vessel, playing like swift horses; the hymns resound together around the triple-backed one. He has flowed around the vessels, generous as a charioteer eager for prize; purified, he generated speech and sent it forth. Soma, purified, is the creator of thoughts, of heaven, of earth, of Agni, of the Sun, of Indra, and of Vishnu. He is the priest among the gods, the path of the sages, the seer of the inspired, the bull among wild beasts, the eagle among vultures, the sustainer of forests—Soma, roaring, passes through the filter. He has advanced with speech, like a wave, like a river, with hymns and thoughts, O Pavamana. Seeing within, he stands among the cows, the bull, knowing the lower places. To Agni, increaser of sacrifices, most bountiful, descendant of strength, we direct our thoughts. As Tvashtar has shaped this one, as a craftsman fashions forms, so by his will is the glory of the renowned one. This Agni, lord among gods, surpasses all splendors—may he come to us with prizes. Indra, drink this pressed Soma, the greatest, immortal exhilaration; the bright streams have flowed to you in the seat of truth. No charioteers surpass you, Indra, when you harness your bays; none by their path or horses can reach you. Now honor Indra, recite praises; the pressed Somas, eager, worship the greatest power—revere him with strength. Indra, accept and bring forth, come, hero, with your bays; drink the pressed Soma, delighting in the sweet exhilaration. Indra, fill your new belly as with the honey of heaven, as with this pressed Soma; the exhilarating, well-spoken draughts have come to you. Indra, strong as Mitra, slew Vritra; like a priest, he broke open Vala; like Bhrigu, he endured the enemies in the exhilaration of Soma. You, Soma, are the third and the second half; become the giver of cows, knower of wealth, finder of gold. Flow forth, O Indu, established in the worlds. Heroic, all-knowing Soma, to you the men come and sit with their songs. You are all-seeing among men, O purifying bull; you run everywhere. So flow for us, rich in wealth and gold, so that we may live among the worlds. You, O Indu, master, move through these worlds, harnessing the swift, green-winged ones. Let them pour forth sweet ghee and milk; by your command, Soma, let the peoples stand firm. Of you, the purifying all-knower, O Soma, your streams have flowed forth like the rays of the sun. Making a banner across the sky, you pass through all forms; like the ocean, Soma, you swell. Born, you seek out speech, O purifying one, in your course; you cry out like the god, the sun.