1 ADHVARYU, on the filter pour the Soma juice expressed with stones, And make it pure for Indra's drink.
2 Pour out for Indra, Thunder-armed, the milk of heaven,, the Soma's juice, Most excellent, most rich in sweets.
3 These Gods and all the Marut host, Indu enjoy this juice of thine, This Pavamana's flowing meath.
4 For, Soma, thou hast been effused, strengthening for the wild carouse, O Steer, the singer, for our help.
5 Flow with thy stream, Far-sighted One, effused, into the cleansing sieve: Flow on to give us strength and fame.
1 WEALTH-WINNER, dwelling in the sky, bringing us vigour with the juice, Flow to the filter when effused.
2 So, in thine ancient ways, may he, beloved, with a thousand streams Run o’er the fleecy straining-cloth.
3 Him who is like a caldron shake: O Indu, shake thy gift to us Shake it, armed Warrior! with thine arms.
4 Indu, invoked with many a prayer, bring down the vigour of these men, Of him who threatens us with war.
5 Indu, Wealth-giver, with thine help pour out for us a hundred, yea, A thousand of thy pure bright streams.
1 O THOU with stones for arms, thy powers, crushing the fiends, have raised themselves: Chase thou the foes who compass us.
2 Thou conquerest thus with might when car meets car, and when the prize is staked: With fearless heart will I sing praise.
3 No one with evil thought assails this Pavamana's holy laws: Crush him who fain would fight with thee.
4 For Indra to the streams they drive the tawny rapture-dropping Steed, Indu the bringer of delight.
1 AFTER his ancient splendour, they, the bold, have drawn the bright milk from The Sage who wins a thousand gifts.
2 In aspect he is like the Sun; he runneth forward to the lakes, Seven currents flowing through the sky.
3 He, shining in his splendour, stands high over all things that exist- Soma, a God as Sūrya is.
4 Thou, Indu, in thy brilliancy, pourest on us, as Indra's Friend, Wealth from the kine to feast the Gods.
1 POUR on us with thy juice all kinds of corn, each sort of nourishment, And, Soma, all felicities.
2 As thine, O Indu, is the praise, and thine what springeth from the juice, Seat thee on the dear sacred grass.
3 And, finding for us kine and steeds, O Soma, with thy juice flow on Through days that fly most rapidly.
4 As one who conquers, ne’er subdued, attacks and stays the enemy, Thus, Vanquisher of thousands! flow.
1 SWIFT to the purifying sieve flows Soma as exalted Law, Slaying the fiends, loving the Gods.
2 When Soma pours the strengthening food a hundred ever-active streams To Indra's friendship win theirway.
3 Ten Dames have sung to welcome thee, even as a maiden greets her love: O Soma, thou art decked to win.
4 Flow hitherward, O Indu, sweet to Indra and to Viṣṇu: guard The men, the singers, from distress.
1 THY streams that never fail or waste flow forth like showers of rain from heaven, To bring a thousand stores of strength.
2 He flows beholding on his way all wellbeloved sacred lore, Green-tinted, brandishing his, arms.
3 He, when the people deck him like a docile king of elephants. Sits as a falcon in the, wood.
4 So bring thou hitherward to us, Indu, while thou art purified, All treasures both of heaven and earth.
1 SWIFT runs this giver of delight, even the stream of flowing juice: Swift runs this giver of delight.
2 The Morning knows all precious things, the Goddess knows her grace to man: Swift runs this giver of delight.
3 We have accepted thousands from Dhvasra's and Puruṣanti's hands: Swift runs this giver of delight.
4 From whom we have accepted thus thousands and three times ten beside: Swift runs this giver of delight.
1 FLOW onward, Soma, winning kine, and steeds, and all that gives delight: Bring hither wealth with progeny.
2 Flow onward from the waters, flow, inviolable, from the plants: Flow onward from the pressing-boards.
3 Soma, as Pavamana, pass over all trouble and distress: Sit on the sacred grass, a Sage.
4 Thou, Pavamana, foundest light; thou at thy birth becamest great: O Indu, thou art over all.
1 SING forth and laud with sacred song most active Pavamana, laud Indu who sees with thousand eyes.
2 Thee who hast thousand eyes to see, bearer of thousand burthens, they Have filtered through the fleecy cloth.
3 He, Pavamana, hath streamed through the fleece then: he runs into the jars, Finding his way to Indra's heart.
4 That Indra may be bounteous, flow, most active Soma, for our weal: Bring genial seed with progeny.