As there ye, Mitra, Varuṇa, above the true have taken to yourselves the untrue with your mind, with wisdom's mental energy,
So in the seats wherein ye dwell have we beheld the Golden One,
Not with our thoughts or spirit, but with these our eyes, yea, with the eyes that Soma gives.


Aśvins, the pious call you with their hymns of praise, sounding their loud song forth to you, these living men, to their oblations, living men.
All glories and all nourishment, Lords of all wealth! depend on you.
The fellies of your golden chariot scatter drops, Mighty Ones! of your golden car.


These Soma-drops, strong Indra! drink for heroes, poured, pressed out by pressing-stones, are welling forth for thee, for thee the drops are welling forth.
They shall make glad thy heart to give, to give wealth great and wonderful.
Thou who acceptest praise come glorified by hymns, come thou to us benevolent.