Sprinkle forth the juice effused, Soma, the best of sacred gifts, Who, friend of man, hath run amid the water-streams. He hath pressed Soma out with stones.
Now, being purified, flow hither through the fleece inviolate and most odorous. We ladden thee in waters when thou art effused, blending thee still with juice and milk.
Pressed out for all to see, delighting Gods, Indu, Far-sighted One, is mental power.
Cleansing thee, Soma, in thy stream, thou flowest in a watery robe: Giver of wealth, thou sittest in the place of Law, O God, a fountain made of gold.
Milking the heavenly udder for dear meath, he hath sat in the ancient gatheringplace. Washed by the men, the Strong Farseeing One streams forth nutriti us food that all desire.
O Soma, while they cleanse thee, dear and watchful in the sheep's long wool, Thou hast become a Singer most like Aṅgiras: thou madest Sūrya mount to heaven.
Bountiful, best of furtherers, Soma floweth on, Ṛṣi and Singer, keen of sight. Thou hast become a Sage most welcome to the Gods: thou madest Sūrya mount to heaven.
Pressed out by pressers, Soma goes over the fleecy backs of sheep, Goes, even as with a mare, in tawnycoloured stream, goes in exhilarating stream.
Down to the water-Soma, rich in kine hath flowed with cows, with cows that have been milked. They have approached the mixing-vessel as a sea: the cheerer streams for the carouse.
Effused by stones, O Soma, and urged through the long wool of the sheep, Thou, entering the saucers as a man the fort, gold-hued hast settled in the wood.
He beautifies himself through the sheep's long fine wool, like an impetuous steed in war, Even Soma Pavamana who shall be the joy of sages and of holy bards.
O Soma—while they cleanse thee, dear and watchful in the sheep’s long wool, Thou hast become a Singer most like Aṅgiras