Let the course of our sacred song be sent forth unto the waters that dwell among the gods— as if drawn along by the reins of the mind— to the great wellspring of Mitra and Varuṇa.
There shall I make this well-wrought hymn submit to that which stretcheth wide:
the waters deep and vast.

O ye Adhvaryus, now that your hands are full of offering, go ye to the waters, eager ones, as eager as they.

The red-plumed eagle looketh down upon those waves— harness them this day, ye whose hands are deft and wise.

Go, ye sacrificers, go to the waters, to the boundless sea.
Pour out your gift unto the Child born of the Waters.
He shall give you this day a wave well-cleansed and pure.
For him press forth the honeyed draught of soma.

For he shineth within the deep, without need of flame or wood, and the seers call on him at their holy feasts.

O thou Child of the Waters, grant us the honeyed streams by which Indra waxeth strong and great in war.

These are the waters that stir Soma with delight, as a bold young man is stirred by maidens fair.

Go forth to them, O Adhvaryu—pour, and when thou pourest, cleanse them well with hallowed herbs.

Even as a maiden yieldeth to her love, meeting him with like desire, so do these waters draw nigh the priest, hearts and thoughts as one— the Adhvaryus, the holy place, and the godward waters.

He who unbarred the paths once shut, who broke the ancient curse— to Indra give your honeyed wave, ye waters, that gladden the gods and stir their strength.

Send forth to him that sweetened wave, ye rivers, that bears your very seed and springeth forth as honey, with ghee upon its back, fit to be called in rite and rite again.
O waters rich, give ear unto my cry.

O rivers, send that wave that quickeneth and feedeth Indra, that stirreth both god and man, that joy-giving wave that rose from the uśānā-plant, born of the cloud, spread wide about the threefold-threaded rite.

They whirl as twin streams, ranging as raiders in their bands, the mothers and lords of being, these waters bound in strength, sharing one womb—
O seer, lift now thy voice and praise them!

Drive our rite forward, ye gods, by this our gift; bear forth our sacred speech unto the prize.

Let down your udder at the yoking of truth— grant us a hearing, O waters, hearken well.

O bounteous waters, for ye rule the good, and bring with you bright counsel and deathless draughts, ye are the lords of wealth that beareth noble seed.
Let Sarasvatī set this life-breath firm within the singer.

Even now the waters show their faces near— onward they come, bearing ghee, and milk, and honey sweet, their minds made one with the Adhvaryus, bringing soma well-pressed to Indra’s cup.

Now are they come, rich and laden with spoil for the quick.
O comrades in the rite, seat them well upon the holy grass.
Set them down with care, ye that serve the soma, these friends of the Child of the Waters.

The keen waters have come and found their place.
Seeking the gods, they’ve sat among the rites.
O Adhvaryus, press the soma for Indra—
now hath the offering grown easy in your hands.