2Swift as wide winds they lightly move, like rain−storms of Parjanya, like The flickering flames of burning fire.

3These Soma juices, blent with curds, purified, skilled in sacred hymns, Have gained by song their hearts'desire.

4Immortal, cleansed, these drops, since first they flowed, have never wearied, fain To reach the regions and their paths.

5Advancing they have travelled o'er the ridges of the earth and heaven, And this the highest realm of all.

6Over the heights have they attained the highest thread that is spun out, And this which must be deemed most high.

7Thou, Soma, boldest wealth in kine which thou hast seized from niggard churls: Thou calledst forth the outspun thread.