Be seated, O friends and sing aloud for him who purifies himself. Array him alike a child in festive raiment and bring him offering. Unite with his worshippers even as a calf to its mother-cow, this doubly potent, the god, giver of property, producer of happiness, the God-gladdening juice. Purify him who gives power, that he, most blessed one; be a feast for Varuna, Mitra and their attendants. Our songs have lauded you like lowing cows, as producer of wealth for us. We cover the hue thou wearest with a robe of flowing milk. Thou Soma art the Lord of raptures, gladdening drink of the immortal Gods, Drive far away from us the rapacious demon, the godless and the false, whoever he may be. Sweep away all sorrow!

Ye leaned, sprinkle forth the Soma shed, the best of holy gifts, the friend of man, who hath run among the water-streams, pressed out with stones. More adorous and purified, he flows through the woolen fitter, the invincible. We take great delight when thou art shed, mixing thee still with juice and milk. Expressed for all to see, the seer, gladdening the Gods, Soma is verily the mental power. O Soma, purifying all, thou manifests thyself flowing in a watery robe, giver of treasures, thou art the root of Law, O God, a fountain of gold.

When they purify thee, O dear Indu, ever watchful in the sieve of long fleece, thou becomest a singer, thou made the Sun ascend the heaven. Thou best further, generous, sage and singer, clear of vision, floweth forth. Thou art a Sage most loved of the Gods, thou made the Sun ascend the heaven. Extracted by the pressers with stones, Soma goes, over the fleecy back of the sheep, goes even as with a mare in a tawny coloured stream singing stream. Down with the water, Soma hath flowed, he hath flowed with kine which have been milked. The gladdening Soma juices go to the wooden vat as water flow to the ocean, the cheerer flows for the carouse. Pressed out with stones, O Soma, and filtered through the fleecy sieve, thou enterest the vat even as a man enters a city having conquered a fort, gold-hued. He like a racing horse beautifies himself through the sieve of long fine wool the munificent. He, the Soma Pavaman, becomes the joy of the sages and the holy bards. The delightful soma hath flowed river-like for the feast of Gods, sweet with the liquor he hath flowed into the vat that drops with honey. Like a dear son he must be cleansed and embellished. He, the glorious one, hath clothed himself in a bright robe. The men skilled in their craft drive him forth, like a chariot driven to the battlefield by a clever driver.

O Soma, full of sweetness, most divine, great gladdening juice, flow thou for Indra! Thou of whom realizing the rapture, Indra, the Bull exhibits his manly strength, having deep drunk that divine juice. He, the giver of happiness and light, most wise, hath come night to food and booty as a steed comes to the battle. O Pavaman, thou pure, God, divine, full of brightest splendour, givest all beings a message of immortality. By whom the Priest opened the closed portals, by whom the Sages attained their desires through whose support they won the renown of splendid Amrita at the place of sacrifice in the felicity of Gods.

Press him out and pour into the vat, praiseworthy speeding like a horse through the flood, him who swims in water and dwells in the woods. The Steer with thousand streams pours about like rain, beloved of the Gods and true in essence. Born in law, he hath grown strong by the law, Sovereign Lord, and the lofty law in itself. O God, Lord of food, make high and splendid glory shine all around us. Unclose the covering of the middle region! Roll forth out of the press, O potent God, like a king, supporting his subjects. Pour forth rain on us from heaven, send us the goods for developing our intellects to win the spoil. Strain him, even this Steer who milks the heavens, him with a thousand streams, brining rapturous joys, him who showers all marvellous things! The potent one, born immortal, who lends life, and lights up the darkness with his shine. The Sages have praised him well, who by his wonderous might enrobes himself in threefold attire. Soma, who bestows on us riches, milch-kine, food, houses to dwell in, fine children, is effused by the priests. He whom Indra, the Maruts, Bhaga and Aryaman drink for their felicity, by whom we bring Mitra, Varuna and Indra to our sacrifice for our great defence, he is our sound refuge!