1. SOMA, the Steer, effused for draught, flows to the purifying sieve,
Slaying the fiends, loving the Gods.
2. Far-sighted, tawny-coloured, he flows to the sieve, intelligent,
Bellowing, to his place of rest.
3. This vigorous Pavamana runs forth to the luminous realm of heaven,
Fiend-slayer, through the fleecy sieve.
4. This Payamana up above Trita's high ridge hath made the Sun,
Together with the Sisters, shine.
5. This Vrtra-slaying Steer, effused, Soma room-giver, ne'er deceived,
Hath gone, as 'twere, to win the spoil.
6. Urged onward by the sage, the God speeds forward to the casks of wood,
Indu to Indra willingly.
