The juice of Soma thus diffused, sweet to the taste, the bright cows drink, Who for the sake of splendour close to mighty Indra's side rejoice, good in their own supremacy.
Craving his touch the dappled kine mingle the Soma with their milk. The milch-kine dear to Indra send forth his death-dealing thunderbolt, good in their own supremacy.
With veneration, passing wise, honouring his victorious might, They follow close his many laws to win them due preeminence, good in their own supremacy.
Who yokes to-day unto the pole of Order the strong and passionate steers of checkless spirit, With shaft-armed mouths, heart-piercing, health-bestowing? Long shall he live who richly pays their service.
Who fleeth forth? who suffereth? who feareth? Who knoweth Indra present, Indra near us? Who sendeth benediction on his offspring, his household, wealth and person, and the People?
Who with poured oil and offering honours Agni, with ladle worships at appointed seasons? To whom to the Gods bring oblation quickly? What offerer, God-favoured, knows him thoroughly?
Let not thy bounteous gifts, let not thy saving help fail us, good Lord, at any time; And measure out to us, thou lover of mankind, all riches hitherward from men.