HYMN LVII. SOMA PAVAMANA.
पर
pra
ते
te
धारा
dhārā
असश्चतो
asaścato
दिवो
divo
न
na
यन्ति
yanti
वर्ष्टयः
vṛṣṭayaḥ
|
अछा
achā
वाजं
vājaṃ
सहस्रिणम
sahasriṇam
||
THY streams that never fail or waste flow forth like showers of rain from heaven,
To bring a thousand stores of strength.
अभि
abhi
परियाणि
priyāṇi
काव्या
kāvyā
विश्वा
viśvā
चक्षाणो
cakṣāṇo
अर्षति
arṣati
|
हरिस्तुञ्जान
haristuñjāna
आयुधा
āyudhā
||
He flows beholding on his way all wellbeloved sacred lore,
Green-tinted, brandishing his, arms.
स
sa
मर्म्र्जान
marmṛjāna
आयुभिरिभो
āyubhiribho
राजेव
rājeva
सुव्रतः
suvrataḥ
|
शयेनो
śyeno
न
na
वंसु
vaṃsu
षीदति
ṣīdati
||
He, when the people deck him like a docile king of elephants.
Sits as a falcon in the, wood.
स
sa
नो
no
विश्वा
viśvā
दिवो
divo
वसूतो
vasūto
पर्थिव्या
pṛthivyā
अधि
adhi
|
पुनान
punāna
इन्दवाभर
indavābhara
||
So bring thou hitherward to us, Indu, while thou art purified,
All treasures both of heaven and earth.