1 Bring us a thousand, O Lord, as our guerdon for the Soma juice: Hundreds of kine, O Hero, bring

2 Bring cattle, bring us ornament, bring us embellishment and steeds,

Give us, besides, two rings of gold.

3 And, Bold One, bring in ample store rich jewels to adorn the ear,

For Thou, Good Lord, art far renowned.

4 None other is there for the priest, Hero! but Thou, to give him gifts,

To win much spoil and prosper him.

5 God can never be brought low, the Mighty can never be subdued:

He heareth and beholdeth all.

6 He spieth out the wrath of man, He who can never be deceived:

Ere blame can come He marketh it.

7 He hath His fullness of might, the Vrtra-slayer, Conqueror,

The Bestower of Soma, ordering all.

8 In Thee all treasures are combined, all blessed things in Thee,

Uninjured, easy to bestow.

9 To Thee speeds forth my hope that craves the gift of corn, and kine and gold,

Yea, craving horses, speeds to Thee.

10 O Lord, through hope in Thee alone even this sickle do I grasp.

Fill my hand, O Bountiful, with all that it can hold of barley cut or gathered up.