The potent nectar flows, sustaining the heavens, the strength of the gods, which men should greet with joyful cries. The golden one, like a steed spurred by brave men, races through the streams with radiant might.
He arms himself, like a hero, in his hands, eager to claim light, driving his chariot in raids for the cattle. Indu, as she boosts India’s might, is urged forward and blessed by wise sages skilled in their work.
Soma, as you are purified by the flowing wave, display your strength and enter Indra’s throat. Fill both worlds for us, as lightning does the clouds: distribute inexhaustible powers for us, as if through song.
He flows onward, the king of all that sees the light: the Rishis’ lord has raised the sacrificial song; Even he who wears Surya’s arrow-like beam, Father of hymns, whose wisdom surpasses our understanding.
Like a bull to herds, you flow to the pail, bellowing like a steer upon the water’s lap. Thus, best of cheerers, you flow for Indra, so that, under your protection, we may triumph in battle.