8Flow on to indra, Soma, carefully effused: let sickness stay afar together with the fiend! Let not the double-tongued delight them with thy juice: here be thy flowing drops laden with opulence!

9Even as a King hath Soma, red and tawny Bull, been pressed: the wondrous one hath bellowed to the kine. While purified thou passest through the filtering fleece to seat thee hawk-like on the place that drops with oil.

10The drops of Soma juice, like cows who yield their milk, have flowed forth, rich in meath, unto the diety, And, seated on the grass, raising their voice, assumed the milk, the covering robe wherewith the address stream.

11They balm him, balm him over, balm him thoroughly, caress the mighty strength and balm it with the meath. They seize the flying Steer at the stream's breathing-place: cleansing with gold they grasp the animal herein.

12Spread is thy cleansing filter, Brahmanaspati: as prince thou enterest its limbs from every side. The raw, whose mass hath not been heated, gains not this: they only which are dressed, which bear, attain to it.