Water and milk he has endowed, sent to you: the men have filtered and sifted him. Drink, Indra, from the Hotar’s bowl—first right is yours—holy Soma poured with Vaṣaṭ and Svāhā.
Engaged in sacrifice, with spotted deer and spears, shining with ornaments, our friends, Sitting on sacred grass, you Sons of Bharata, drink Soma from the Potar’s bowl, O Men of heaven.
Come to us, swift to hear: as at home on sacred grass sit and enjoy yourselves. And, Tvaṣṭar, may you be joyful in the juice with gods and goddesses in glad company.
Bring the gods here, Sage, and perform the sacrifice: at the three altars, seat yourself willingly, Priest. Accept the Soma mead for your pleasure: drink from the Kindler’s bowl and fill yourself with your portion.
This strengthens your manly body’s might: strength, victory for all time placed within your arms. For you, Maghan, it is pressed and offered: drink from the Brahman’s chalice, drink to your fill.
Accept the sacrifice; note both of you, my call: the Priest has seated you according to ancient texts. My prayer that bids them come goes to both kings: drink the Soma mead from the Director’s bowl.