Come, mighty Indra, to our sacrifice! We call upon thee with our voices raised.
The pressing-stones are placed; the Soma stalks are laid upon the sacred ground.
We crush them now—hear thou the sound of mortar striking stone!
The golden juice doth flow like honey, sweetened now for thy delight.

O Indra, mightiest of the gods, who drinketh from the Soma cup,
Receive this precious drink we make for thee with all our heart and care.
The ṛṣis of the ancient days did press the Soma in this very way.
Accept this gift as thou hast ever done; come forth and drink with us.

The Soma plant doth grow upon the mountain high, where snow doth lie eternal.
'Twas brought to earth by ancient hands; 'twas carried down from heaven's realm.
When pressed and filtered through the cloth, it becometh draught of gods.
The man who drinketh Soma becomes as one among the immortal powers.

We mix the juice with milk and water, honey-sweet and cold.
The pressing-stones do crush and break the stalks most carefully.
Each drop that floweth is a gift most holy, most divine.
We offer thee this sacred drink—accept it, Indra, lord most strong.

When thou hast drunk the Soma full, thy might shall be increased.
Thy strength shall grow ten thousand-fold; thy power shall shake the sky.
The demons flee before thy face; the Dāsas tremble at thy name.
No foe can stand against thee when thou hast drunk the Soma deep.

Come now and bless this preparation; grant us thy favor and thy grace.
Let not our pressing-work be vain; let not our offering be rejected.
Thou art the giver of all gifts—of strength and victory and fame.
Drink deep of this most precious juice, and shed thy blessings upon us.