XIII Soma Pavamana

1. Even as a King hath Soma, red and tawny Bull, been pressed the wondrous one hath bellowed to the kine.

While purified thou passest through the filtering fleece to seat thee hawk-like in the place that drops with oil.

2. Parjanya is the sire of the leaf-bearing Bull: on mountains, in earth's centre hath he made his home.

The waters have flowed forth, the Sisters, to the kine: he meets the pressing-stones at the beloved rite.

3. To glory goest thou, a Sage with ordering skill, like a groomed steed thou rushest forward to the prize.

Be gracious to us, Soma, driving off distress! Thou goest, clothed in butter, to a robe of state.