1. FORTH through the straining-cloth the Sage flows to the banquet of the Gods,
Subduing all our enemies.
2. For he, as Pavamana, sends thousand fold treasure in the shape
Of cattle to the singing-men.
3. Thou graspest all things with thy mind, and purifiest thee with thoughts
As such, O Soma, find us fame.
4. Pour lofty glory on us, send sure riches to our liberal lords,
Bring food to those who sing thy praise.
5. As thou art cleansed, O Wondrous Steed, O Soma, thou hast entered, like
A pious King, into the songs.
6. He, Soma, like a courser in the floods invincible, made clean
With hands, is resting in the jars.
7. Disporting, like a liberal chief, thou goest, Soma, to the sieve,
Lending the laud a Hero's strength.
