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1. To Indra,
to the Mighty Steer, may these gold-coloured juices go,
Drops rapidly produced, that
find the light of heaven.
2 Effused,
this juice victorious flows for Indra, for his maintenance.
Soma bethinks him of the
Conqueror, as he knows.
3 May Indra in
his raptures gain from him the grasp that gathers spoil,
And, winning waters, wield the
steerstrong thunderbolt.
4 Flow
vigilant for Indra, thou Soma, yea, Indu, run thou on:
Bring hither splendid strength
that finds the light of heaven.
5 Do thou,
all-beautiful, purify for Indra's sake the mighty juice,
Path-maker thou, far seeing,
with a thousand ways.
6 Best finder
of prosperity for us, most rich in sweets for Gods,
Proceed thou loudly roaring on
a thousand paths.
7 O Indu, with
thy streams, in might, flow for the banquet of the Gods:
Rich in meath, Soma, in our
beaker take thy place.
8 Thy drops
that swim in water have exalted Indra to delight:
The Gods have drunk thee up for
immortality.
9 Stream
opulence to us, ye drops of Soma, pressed and purified,
Pouring down rain from heaven
in hoods, and finding light.
10 Soma, while
filtered, with his wave flows through the long wool of the sheep,
Shouting while purified before
the voice of song.
11 With songs
they send the Mighty forth, sporting in wood, above the fleece:
Our psalms have glorified him
of the triple height.
12 Into the
jars hath he been loosed, like an impetuous steed for war,
And lifting up his voice, while
filtered, glided on.
13 Gold-hued
and lovely in his course, througb tangles of the wool he flows,
And pours heroic fame upon the
worshippers.
14 Flow thus,
a faithful votary: the streams of meath have been effused.
Thou comest to the filter,
singing, from each side.
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