VIII Soma Pavamana

1. Made pure by this man's urgent zeal and impulse, the God hath with his juice the Gods pervaded.

Pressed, singing, to the sieve he goes, as passes the Hotar to enclosures hoiding cattle.

2. Robed in fair raiment meet to wear in combat, a mighty Sage pronouncing invocations,

Roll onward to the press-boards as they cleanse thee, far-seeing at the feast of Gods and watchful!

3. Dear, he is brightened on the fleecy summit, a prince among us, nobler than the noble.

Roar out as thou art purified, run forward! Do ye preserve us evermore with blessings!