The three times seven milch kine in the eastern sky have offered the true milk drink for Soma. Four other beautiful creatures he has made for his adornment, when he grew strong through sacred rites.
Thirsty for the lovely Amrita, by his wisdom he divided, each apart from other, earth and sky. He gladly wrapped himself in the brightest waters, when through their glory they found the God’s resting place.
May those brilliant rays he always free from death, inviolate, for both kinds of created beings— Rays that purify the powers of men and gods. Yes, even for this, sages welcomed him as king.
He, while adorned by the ten skilled ones, may create in the Midmost Mothers, too. While watching over the lovely Amrita’s ways, he beholds both races as the observer of mankind.
He, while adorned to stream forth mighty strength, rejoices in his place between the earth and sky. The bull dispels the wicked with its might, aiming at offerings like an archer at a game.
Seeing, as it were, two mother cows, the bull roars on, just as the Maruts roar. Knowing eternal law, the first light of heaven, he, passing wise, was chosen to tell it forth.
The fearful bull bellows with fierce might, far-sighted, sharpening his yellow-horned head. Soma takes his seat in the well-made place: the hide and the sheepskin are his adornment.
Bright, making his body spotless and stain-free, on the sheep’s back the golden flows down. Acceptable to Mitra, Vāyu, Varuṇa, he is prepared as a threefold meal by skilled men.
Flow on for the God’s feast, Soma, as a bull, and enter Indra’s heart, the Soma’s reservoir. Bear us beyond misfortune, before we are oppressed. The one who knows the land guides the one who asks.
Like a chariot horse, flow to strength, O Soma: Indu, flow onward to Indra’s throat. Skilled, bear us past, as in a boat over water: as a battle hero, save us from the foe.