Overpowering Vṛtras, run forward to gain great strength: You rush to subdue, like one collecting debts.
In you, poured out, O Soma, we rejoice for great supremacy in battle. You, Pavamana, enter mighty deeds,
You, Pavamana, generated the Sun and spread moisture with power, Hastening to us with plenty rich in milk.
You produced him, Immortal One among mortals, for the Law and lovely Amṛta: You always move, making strength flow to us.
All around you pierce with glory for us, as if a never-failing well for men to drink, Borne on your way in fragments from the presser's arms.
Then, beautifully radiant, certain Heavenly Ones sang kinship as they looked upon you, And Savitar, the God, opened as if a stall.
Soma, the ancient men whose grass was trimmed addressed the hymn to you for mighty strength and fame: So, Hero, urge us onward to heroic power.
They drained forth from the great sky's old primordial milk of heaven that claims praise: They raised their voice at Indra's birth.
As long as you, O Pavamana, are above this earth and heaven and all existence in your might, You stand like a Bull, the chief among the herd.
In the sheep's wool, Soma, Pavamana flowed, while cleansing him, like a playful infant, Indu with a hundred powers and a hundred currents.
Holy and sweet, while purified, this Indu flows on, a wave of pleasant taste, to Indra— Strength-winner, Treasure-finder, Life-giver.
So flow you on, subduing our attackers, chasing the hard-to-encounter demons, Well-armed and conquering our foes, O Soma.