In the jaw of the stones, as the droplet blew its breath, they rang as one. The bonds of kin have knit within the womb of truth.
The lord hath given up his threefold crown to be seized; the boats of the faithful one have borne the right-doer unto the further shore.

Together driven, the wild bulls have borne him forth. The seekers have made him—or speech itself—tremble in the river’s swell.
They brought forth the chant from streams of honey, and made the fair form of Indra wax in strength.

Set round the voice with the strainer in place, they take their seat. Their elder father keepeth his word.
Like mighty Varuṇa, Soma hath veiled himself in the sea; only the wise have grasped his hidden props.

In that strainer of a thousand flows they rang as one, as did the honeyed, endless streams in heaven’s own hall.
His keen-eyed watchers do not blink; at every pace lie snares well-laid.

They who rang as one from sire and dam—Heaven and Earth—flaming with verse and burning the lawless, by spellcraft they blow away the dark-hued wretch whom Indra hateth, from earth and sky alike.

They who rang as one from their ancient hold, whose reins bear signs, wise men of the wild one— the blind and the dull have fled before them; the wicked pass not the road of truth.

Here in the wide-stretched sieve of countless streams, the seers of vision cleanse their speech.
The bright Rudras, fair and true, watch well, their gaze alight, their aim unerring, ever set on man.

The warden of truth may not be beguiled; his will is firm. He hath laid three filters deep within his breast.
He seeth all the breathing world with knowing eye, and thrusteth the foul rejecters of law into the pit.

The thread of truth is widely drawn, here in the sieve and upon the tongue’s tip, by Varuṇa’s spell.
Only the far-sighted, reaching as one, have held it fast. But he that goeth not forward shall surely be cast down into the pit.