Like a newborn he cries out in the woods, when the Red One, the Strong One, seeks the light of heaven. He brings heavenly seed that fills the waters: for wide shelter we pray, seeking His grace.
He stands as a tall pillar upholding the sky, the Soma stalk, full of life, moving everywhere. He will bring both these great worlds as the ritual progresses: the Sage unites them, all sustenance.
He follows Aditi’s path, strong and well-made, with food mixed with Soma juice; He who commands the rain, the steer of the herd, Leader of floods, who aids us, who claims His praise.
Butter and milk are drawn from animated clouds; from there Amṛta is born, center of the sacrifice. The Most Bountiful Ones, ever united, love Him; He, as our friend, makes all rain down.
The Soma stalk roars, following the wave: it swells with sap, for man, which Gods enjoy. On Aditi’s lap it lays the seed, by which we gain children and offspring.
In the third region where a thousand streams flow, may the Exhaustless Ones descend with procreative power. The Four kindred were sent down from the heavens: dropping with oil, they bring Amṛta and sacred gifts.
Soma gains white color as He strives to gain: the bountiful Asura knows many precious favors. Down the steep slope, through song, He comes to sacrifice, and He will burst the water-holding cask of heaven,
To the shining milk-anointed beaker, as His goal, has stepped the conquering Courser. Pious-souled men have sent their gift of cattle to Kakṣīvān of the hundred winters.
Soma, when Your juice blends with the streams, flows, Pavamana, through the long wool of the sheep. So, cleansed by sages, O best giver of delight, grow sweet for Indra, Pavamana! for His drink.