In the sacred gathering, the wise ones bow their gaze upon the rim, intoning the ancient chants. Indra’s blameless, shining companions, O vigorous one, listen with attentive ears, joining their voices in song. Together, the singers call Indra to partake of the Soma, inviting the lord of good things, steadfast in his vow, to grow strong amidst his bands, his might increasing. Indra, king of peoples and rider of chariots, unwearied and destroyer of hosts, the foremost among gods, the slayer of Vṛtra, is praised with reverence. Glorify Indra, rich in gifts and help, in whose hand the thunderbolt is placed by the wise ordainer. He is the great god, radiant and visible like the sun. The dear poet of heaven, set upon the paths of the offspring, moves with his own sounds, possessing the wisdom of poets. He, the pure son, was born from his mothers, shining brightly at birth, great and mighty, his strength grown by the cosmic order. Tireless, he is poured out for the undiminished, blameless people, O invigorating one, for their increase. O Pavamana, you are the most radiant among the 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; by you, fame was acquired. Soma, purified, rushes through the filter in a wave, and at the forefront, Pavamana, roaring, utters his voice. With prayers, the vigorous one is cleansed in the wood, playing like swift horses; the hymns resound together around the triple-backed one. The generous one has flowed around the vessels, like a charioteer eager for prize; purified, he generated speech and sent it forth. Soma, purified, is the creator of thoughts, the creator of heaven and earth, the creator of Agni, the creator of the Sun, the creator of Indra, and also the creator 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 advances 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, the increaser of sacrifices, most bountiful, the descendant of strength, thoughts are directed. 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 the gods, surpasses all splendors; may he come to us with prizes. Indra is invited to drink the pressed Soma, the greatest, immortal exhilaration; the bright streams have flowed to him in the seat of truth. No charioteers surpass Indra when he harnesses his bays; none by their path, none by their horses can reach him. Now honor Indra, recite praises; the pressed Somas, eager, worship the greatest power—revere him with strength. Indra, accept, bring forth, come, hero, with your bays; drink the pressed Soma, as the thought of the sweet, delighting in the lovely exhilaration. Indra, fill your new belly as with the honey of heaven, as with this pressed Soma; to you the exhilarating, well-spoken draughts have come. Indra, strong like Mitra, slew Vritra; like a priest, he broke open Vala; like Bhrigu, he endured the enemies in the exhilaration of Soma. Soma, you are the third and the second half; become the giver of cows, the knower of wealth, the finder of gold. Flow forth, O Indu, established in the worlds. You are heroic, Soma, all-knowing; to you the men come and sit with their songs. Soma, all-seeing among men, O purifying bull, you run everywhere. Flow for us, rich in wealth and gold, so that we may live among the worlds. O Indu, master, you 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. O Soma, purifying all-knower, 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. The Somas have flowed forth, the purifying Indus; shining, they choose their place in the waters. The cows have flowed forth, like waters descending in a stream; purified, they have reached Indra. O purifying Soma, you flow forth, delighting Indra; led by men, you are carried away. O Indu, when pressed by the stones, you are poured around the filter; you are fit for Indra’s abode. Soma, delighting men, you flow on, upholding the tribes; you are ever fresh, worthy of praise. Flow, O slayer of Vṛtra, most worthy of praise in hymns; pure, radiant, wondrous. Pure, radiant, he is called; Soma, pressed, is sweet; divine, heroic, destroyer of reproach. The sage has protected for the gods, with unfailing streams; he has summoned all contests. For he indeed brings to the singers wealth rich in cows, a thousandfold, O purifying one. You are cleansed with all intelligence, purified by thought; grant us, Soma, fame.