इषुर् न धन्वन् प्रति धीयते मतिर् वत्सो न मातुर् उप सर्ज्य् ऊधनि । उरुधारेव दुहे अग्र आयत्य् अस्य व्रतेष्व् अपि सोम इष्यते ॥
iṣur na dhanvan prati dhīyate matir vatso na mātur upa sarjy ūdhani | urudhāreva duhe agra āyaty asya vrateṣv api soma iṣyate ||
Laid like an arrow on the bow the hymn hath been loosed like a young calf to the udder of its dam. As one who cometh first with full stream she is milked the Soma is impelled to this man's holy rites.
upo matiḥ pṛcyate sicyate madhu mandrājanī codate antar āsani | pavamānaḥ saṃtaniḥ praghnatām iva madhumān drapsaḥ pari vāram arṣati ||
The thought is deeply fixed; the savoury juice is shed; the tongue with joyous sound is stirring in the mouth; And Pavamana, like the shout of combatants, the drop rising in sweet juice, is flowing through the fleece.
He flows about the sheep-skin, longing for a bride: he looses Aditi's Daughters for the worshipper. The sacred drink hath come, gold-tinted, well-restrained: like a strong Bull he shines, whetting his manly might.
ukṣā mimāti prati yanti dhenavo devasya devīr upa yanti niṣkṛtam | aty akramīd arjunaṃ vāram avyayam atkaṃ na niktam pari somo avyata ||
The Bull is bellowing; the Cows are coming nigh: the Goddesses approach the God's own resting-place. Onward hath Soma passed through the sheep's fair bright fleece, and hath, as 'twere, endued a garment newly washed.
amṛktena ruśatā vāsasā harir amartyo nirṇijānaḥ pari vyata | divas pṛṣṭham barhaṇā nirṇije kṛtopastaraṇaṃ camvor nabhasmayam ||
The golden-hued, Immortal, newly bathed, puts on a brightly shining vesture that is never harmed. He made the ridge of heaven to be his radiant robe, by sprinkling of the bowls from moisture of the sky.
Even as the beams of Surya, urging men to speed, that cheer and send to sleep, together rush they forth, These swift outpourings in long course of holy rites: no form save only Indra shows itself so pure.
As down the steep slope of a river to the vale, drawn from the Steer the swift strong draughts have found a way. Well be it with the men and cattle in our home. May powers, O Soma, may the people stay with us.
Pour out upon us wealth in goods, in gold, in steeds, in cattle and in corn, and great heroic strength. Ye, Soma, are my Fathers, lifted up on high as heads of heaven and makers of the strength of life.
These Pavamanas here, these drops of Soma, to Indra have sped forth like cars to booty. Effused, they pass the cleansing fleece, while, gold-hued, they cast their covering off to pour the rain down.
O Indu, flow thou on for lofty Indra, flow blameless, very gracious, foe-destroyer. Bring splendid treasures to the man who lauds thee. O Heaven and Earth, with all the Gods protect us.