1Flow to the filter with thy stream, effused, to win us spoil and wealth, Soma exceeding rich in meath for Indra, Vishnu, and the Gods

2The hymns that know not guile, caress thee, golden-coloured, in the sieve. As mothers, Pavamana, lick the new-born calf, as Law commands.

3Lord of great sway, thou liftest thee above the heavens, above the earth. Thou, of Pavamana, hast assumed thy coat of mail with majesty.