This one—the prize-bearer, urged by men, and all-knowing as the lord of thought— runneth swift through the wool of the sheep.

This one hath flowed unto the strainer, the soma pressed for the gods, and passeth into all their dwelling-places.

This one, a god undying, decketh himself within his womb; he breaketh all hindrance, and followeth best after the gods.

This one, the ever-roaring bull, held fast by the ten brethren, hasteneth unto the wooden beakers.

This one, self-cleansing and measureless, hath made the sun to shine, being all-knowing, beholding each realm.

This one—Soma the wild, whom no lie may beguile— runneth in his cleansing, chasing the gods, and smiting the evil of tongue.