LAID like an arrow on the bow the hymn hath been loosed like a young calf to the udder of its dam.
As one who cometh first with full stream she is milked the Soma is impelled to this man's holy rites.
The thought is deeply fixed; the savoury juice is shed; the tongue with joyous sound is stirring in the mouth; And Indu, like the shout of combatants, the drop rising in sweet juice, is flowing through the fleece.
He flows about the sheep-skin, longing for a bride: he looses Aditi's Daughters for the worshipper. The sacred drink hath come, gold-tinted, well-restrained: like a strong Bull he shines, whetting his manly might.
The Bull is bellowing; the Cows are coming nigh: the Goddesses approach the Deva's own resting-place. Onward hath Soma passed through the sheep's fair bright fleece, and hath, as βtwere, endued a garment newly washed.
The golden-hued, Immortal, newly bathed, puts on a brightly shining vesture that is never harmed. He made the ridge of Heaven to be his radiant robe, by sprinkling of the bowls from moisture of the sky.
Even as the beams of SΕ«rya, urging men to speed, that cheer and send to sleep, together rush they forth, these swift outpourings in long course of holy rites: no form save only Indra shows itself so pure.
As down the steep slope of a river to the vale, drawn from the Steer the swift strong draughts have found a way. Well be it with the men and cattle in our home. May powers, O Soma. May the people stay with us.
Pour out upon us wealth in goods, in gold, in steeds, in corn, and great heroic strength. Ye, Soma, are my Fathers, lifted up on high as heads of Heaven and makers of the strength of life.
These Indus here, these drops of Soma, to Indra have sped forth like cars to booty. Effused, they pass the cleansing fleece, while, gold-hued, they cast their covering off to pour the rain down.
O Indu, flow thou on for lofty Indra, flow blameless, very gracious, foe-destroyer. Bring splendid treasures to the man who lauds thee. O Heaven and Earth, with all the Devas protect. us.