1 Like cars that thunder on their way, like coursers eager for renown,

Have Soma-drops flowed forth for wealth.

2 Forth have they rushed from holding hands, like chariots that are urged to speed,

Like joyful songs of singing-men.

3 The Somas deck themselves with milk, as Kings are graced with eulogies,

And, with seven priests, the devotion.

4 Pressed for the gladdening draught, the drops flow forth abundantly with song,

The Soma juices in a stream.

5 Winning Vivasvan's glory and producing Morning's light, the drops

Pass through the openings of the cloth.

6 The singing-men of ancient time open the doors of sacred songs,-

Men, for the Mighty One to accept.

7 Combined in close society sit the seven priests, the brotherhood,

Filling the station of the One.

8 He gives us fellowship with the righteous, and with the Sun unites our eye:

The Sage's offspring hath appeared.

9 The Sun with his dear eye beholds that quarter of the heavens which priests

Have placed within the sacred cell.