Soma is pressed—the ruddy, tawny bull.
Wondrous as a king he roareth forth to the kine.
While he is cleansed, he whirleth round the sheep’s fair fleece, to rest, like a falcon, upon his womb brimmed with ghee.

As a bard well-skilled in rite, thou circlest the mighty sieve.
Groomed as a steed, thou rushest forth to the guerdon.
Fend off all harm, O Soma, show thy grace; clad in ghee as a mantle, thou drivest onward.

Parjanya, the father of the feathered buffalo, hath set his dwelling in the earth’s deep navel, upon the mount’s high places.

The sister streams have flowed unto the kine; he shall join with the stones when the rite is begun.

As a wife is gentle with her lord, so thou, O kindly one, art bounteous.
O seedling of the steadfast earth, give ear, for I do speak with thee.
Amid the singing band I shall rise to a life well-led.
Be thou watchful, O flawless Soma, in the sacred stead.

As thou didst once encircle the prize for those of old— a winner of hundreds, of thousands, shrinking not— so cleanse thyself again for new-blessèd paths.
The waters walk at thy word.