1 To Indra flow these running drops, these Somas frolicsome in mood. Exhilarating, finding light;
2 Driving off foes, bestowing room upon the presser, willingly Bringing their praiser vitalforce.
3 Lightly disporting them, the drops flow to one common reservoir, And fall into the river's wave.
4 These Pavamanas have obtained all blessings much to be desired, Like coursers harnessed to a car.
5 With view to us, O Soma-drops, bestow his manifold desire On him who yet hath given us naught.
6 Bring us our wish with this design, as a wright brings his new-wrought wheel: Flow pure and shining with the stream.
7 These drops have cried with resonant voice: like swift steeds they have run the course, And roused the good man's hymn to life.
1 THESE rapid Soma-streams have stirred themselves to motion like strong steeds, Like cars, like armies hurried forth.
2 Swift as wide winds they lightly move, like rain-storms of Parjanya, like The flickering flames of burning fire.
3 These Soma juices, blent with curds, purified, skilled in sacred hymns, Have gained by song their hearts'desire.
4 Immortal, cleansed, these drops, since first they flowed, have never wearied, fain To reach the regions and their paths.
5 Advancing they have travelled o’er the ridges of the earth and heaven, And this the highest realm of all.
6 Over the heights have they attained the highest thread that is spun out, And this which must be deemed most high.
7 Thou, Soma, boldest wealth in kine which thou hast seized from niggard churls: Thou calledst forth the outspun thread.
1 SWIFT Soma drops have been effused in streams of meath, the gladdening drink, For sacred lore of every kind.
2 Hither to newer. resting-place the ancient Living Ones are come. They made the Sun that he might shine.
3 O Pavamana, bring to us the unsacrificing foeman's wealth, And give us food with progeny.
4 The living Somas being cleansed diffuse exhilarating drink, Turned to the vat which drips with meath.
5 Soma gows on intelligent, possessing sap and mighty strength, Brave Hero who repels the curse.
6 For Indra, Soma! thou art cleansed, a feast-companion for the Gods: 1ndu, thou fain wilt win us strength
7 When he had drunken draughts of this, Indra smote down resistless foes: Yea, smote them, and shall smite them still.
1 HITHERWARD have the Soma streamed, the drops while they are purified: When bIent, in waters they are rinsed.
2 The milk hath run to meet them like floods rushing down a precipice: They come to Indra, being cleansed.
3 O Soma Pavamana, thou art flowing to be Indra's drink: The men have seized and lead thee forth.
4 Victorious, to be hailed with joy, O Soma, flow, delighting men, To him who ruleth o’er mankind.
5 Thou, Indu, when, effused by stones, thou runnest to the filter, art, Ready for Indra's high decree.
6 Flow on, best Vṛtra-slayer; flow meet to be hailed with joyful lauds. Pure, purifying, wonderful.
7 Pure, purifying is he called the Soma of the meath eflused, Slayer of sinners, dear to Gods.
1 GREEN-HUED! as one who giveth strength flow on for Gods to drink, a draught For Vāyu and the Marut host.
2 O Pavamana, sent by song, roaring about thy dwelling-place, Pass into Vāyu as Law bids.
3 The Steer shines with the Deities, dear Sage in his appointed home, Foe-Slayer, most beloved by Gods.
4 Taking each beauteous form, he goes, desirable, while purified, Thither where- the Immortals sit.
5 To Indra Soma flows, the Red, engendering song, exceeding wise, The visitor of living men.
6 Flow, best exhilarator, Sage, flow to the filter in a stream To seat thee in the place of song.
1 THE sages with the fingers' art have dressed and decked that vigorous Steed Upon the lap of Aditi,
2 The kine have called aloud to him exhaustless with a thousand streams, To Indu who supporteth heaven.
3 Him, nourisher of many, Sage, creative Pavamana, they Have sent, by wisdom, to the sky.
4 Him, dweller with Vivasvān, they with use of both arms have sent forth, The Lord of Speech infallible.
5 Him, green, beloved, many eyed, the Sisters with prosing stones Send down to ridges of the sieve.
6 O Pavamana, Indu, priests hurry thee on to Indra, thee Who aidest song and cheerest him.
1 THIS Sage, exalted by our lauds, flows to the purifying cloth, Scattering foes as he is cleansed.
2 As giving power and winning light, for Indra and for Vāyu he Is poured upon the filtering-cloth.
3 The men conduct him, Soma, Steer, Omniscient, and the Head of Heaven, Effused into the vats of wood.
4 Longing for kine, longing for gold hath Indu Pavamana lowed, Still Conqueror, never overcome.
5 This Pavamana, gladdening draught, drops on the filtering cloth, and then Mounts up with Sūrya to the sky.
6 To Indra in the firmament this mighty tawny Steer hath flowed, This Indu, being purified.
1 URGED by the men, this vigorous Steed, Lord of the mind, Omniscient, Runs to the woollen straining-cloth.
2 Within the filter hath he flowed, this Soma for the Gods effused, Entering all their essences.
3 He shines in beauty there, this God Immortal in his dwelling-place, Foe-slayer, dearest to the Gods.
4 Directed by the Sisters ten, bellowing on his way this Steer Runs onward to the wooden vats.
5 This Pavamana, swiftand strong, Omniscient, gave spleudour to The Sun and all his forms of light.
6 This Soma being purified, flows mighty and infallible, Slayer of sinners, dear to Gods.
1 FORWARD with mighty force have flowed the currents of this Steer effused, Of him who sets him by the Gods.
2 The singers praise him with their song, and learned priests adorn the Steed, Brought forth as light that merits laud.
3 These things thou winnest lightly while purified, Soma, Lord of wealth: Fill full the sea that claims our praise.
4 Winning all precious things at once, flow on, O Soma, with thy stream Drive to one place our enemies.
5 Preserve us from the godless, from ill-omened voice of one and all, That so we may be freed from blame.
6 O Indu, as thou flowest on bring us the wealth of earth and heaven, And splendid vigour, in thy stream.
1 STREAMS of this Potent One have flowed easily to the straining-cloth: While he is cleansed he lifts his voice.
2 Indu, by pressers urged to speed, bellowing out while beautified. Sends forth a very mighty sound.
3 Pour on us, Soma, with thy stream manconquering might which many crave, Accompanied with hero sons.
4 Hither hath Pavamana flowed, Soma flowed hither in a stream, To settle in the vats of wood.
5 To waters with the stones they drive thee tawny-hued, most rich in sweets, O Indu, to be Indra's drink.
6 For Indra, for the Thunderer press the Soma very rich in sweets, Lovely, inspiriting, for strength.