Purify thyself, O Soma most honey-sweet, for Indra’s quaffing; be the draught that steels resolve and sways the heights of heaven.

For when the Bull hath tasted thee he beareth himself as Bull indeed, winning the sun as his prize. Bright of omen, thou farest to the banquet even as fleet Etaśa speeds toward the goal.

Self-cleansing and all-resplendent, it was thou who madest the heavenly tribes give heed, that they might taste immortality.

By thee Navagva and by thee Dadhyañc unbarred the pen of cows; by thee the seer-kin won their treasured share of the deathless draught and with it undying fame.

Now, in shining stream thou art strained through the soft sheep’s fleece, leaping and playing like a wave of living water.

With thy puissance thou didst hew the ruddy, watery kine from the prisoning rock; widen yet again thy mastery over stalls of cow and steed, and, mailed like a warrior, burst their barriers, bold one.

Press him, splash him wide, as men dapple a racing horse—this chant-born Soma that crosses flood and airy vault, howling in the wood, swimming in the wave.

A Bull of thousand runnels, waxen strong with milk, dear to the gods, born of Truth and by Truth enthroned, he standeth king, divine and lofty Truth itself.

Flash forth high glory and splendor, O lord of refreshment; as thou seekest the gods, O god, let loose the mid-sky bucket of rain.

Wind thyself into the twin beakers, deft Master of clans, as a trace-horse bends to the yoke; cleanse into the pouring rain of heaven, the rush of waters, and quicken our wits in the quest for cattle.

From the vault of heaven they have milked this thousand-streaming Bull, awakener of rapture, bringer of all good.

The deathless Sire is born, a Bull that begets; with his radiance he scorcheth the dark. Lauded of poets, he arrays himself in triple vesture by his marvellous art.

Pressed is the Leader of wealth and of offerings, Soma, lord of fair homesteads and giver of goodly towns.

Of him shall Indra drink, and the Maruts, Bhaga with Aryaman beside; by him we shall draw Mitra and Varuṇa hither—and Indra as mighty ally.

So, sweetest Soma, kept by mortal hands, strong-weaponed and most exhilarating, refine thyself for Indra’s draught.

Flow into Indra’s heart—the sea of Soma— as rivers pour into the ocean, pleasing Mitra, pleasing Varuṇa, pleasing swift Vāyu, thou highest pillar of the heavens.