2The milk hath run to meet them like floods rushing down a precipice: They come to Indra, being cleansed.

3O Soma Pavamana, thou art flowing to be Indra's drink: The men have seized and lead thee forth.

4Victorious, to be hailed with joy, O Soma, flow, delighting men, To him who ruleth o'er mankind.

5Thou, Indu, when, effused by stones, thou runnest to the filter, art, Ready for Indra's high decree.

6Flow on, best Vrtra−slayer; flow meet to be hailed with joyful lauds. Pure, purifying, wonderful.

7Pure, purifying is he called the Soma of the meath eflused, Slayer of sinners, dear to Gods.