LIKE rivers rushing down a steep incline, slaying the Vṛtras, full of zeal, The swift Soma-streams have flowed.
The drops of Soma juice fall like rain upon the earth: To Indra flow the Soma-streams.
With swelling waves, the joy-bringing drink, the Soma, flows into the sieve, Liking the gods and slaying demons.
It rushes to the pitchers, poured into the sieve it grows strong At sacrifices through the lauds.
Soma, you shine, rising up to heaven as if above light’s triple realm, Moving swiftly to hasten the Sun.
To him, the leader of sacrifice, singers and bards have sung their songs, Offering what he loves to see.
The men, the sages with their hymns, eager for help, deck you strong and steady, Deck you for service of the gods.
Flow onward to the stream of mead, efficacious in your home, Fair, to be drunk at sacrifice.