Win glory, Soma—win a name renowned, thou self-cleansing draught— then better our lot.

Win thou the light, win the sun in his course, and all fair gifts of fortune— then better our lot.

Win us deftness of hand and a will that standeth firm; strike down the scorners, Soma— then better our lot.

Ye cleansers, cleanse Soma that Indra may drink— then better our lot.

Grant us a share in the sun through thy strength and thy grace— then better our lot.

By thy strength and thy grace, may our eyes behold the sun for many a day— then better our lot.

Hasten, strong-armed Soma, unto the high wealth doubly raised— then better our lot.

Hasten toward wealth, as victor who cannot be moved in the fray— then better our lot.

They have swelled thee with rites at the hour of thy outpouring, O self-cleansing one— then better our lot.

Bring us gleaming treasure in steeds, O drop divine, through all our days— then better our lot.