Loud neighs the Tawny Steed when started, settling deep in the wooden vessel while they cleanse him. Led by the men he takes the milk for raiment: then shall he, through his powers, engender praise-songs.
As one who rows drives on his boat, he, Gold-hued, sends forth his voice, loosed on the path of Order. As God, the secret names of Gods he utters, to be declared on sacred grass more widely.
अपाम् इवेद् ऊर्मयस् तर्तुराणाः प्र मनीषा ईरते सोमम् अच्छ । नमस्यन्तीर् उप च यन्ति सं चा च विशन्त्य् उशतीर् उशन्तम् ॥
apām ived ūrmayas tarturāṇāḥ pra manīṣā īrate somam accha | namasyantīr upa ca yanti saṃ cā ca viśanty uśatīr uśantam ||
Hastening onward like the waves of waters, our holy hymns are pressing nigh to Soma. To him they come with lowly adoration, and, longing, enter him who longs to meet them.
tam marmṛjānam mahiṣaṃ na sānāv aṃśuṃ duhanty ukṣaṇaṃ giriṣṭhām | taṃ vāvaśānam matayaḥ sacante trito bibharti varuṇaṃ samudre ||
They drain the stalk, the Steer who dwells on mountains, even as a Bull who decks him on the upland. Hymns follow and attend him as he bellows: Trita bears Varuna aloft in ocean.
iṣyan vācam upavakteva hotuḥ punāna indo vi ṣyā manīṣām | indraś ca yat kṣayathaḥ saubhagāya suvīryasya patayaḥ syāma ||
Sending thy voice out as Director, loosen the Invoker's thought, O Indu, as they cleanse thee. While thou and Indra rule for our advantage, may we be masters of heroic vigour.