1 The pressers from the Soma-press send forth thy juice for rapturous joy

The speckled sap runs like a flood.

2 With strength we follow through the sieve him who brings might and wins the kine,

Enrobed in water with his juice.

3 Pour on the sieve the Soma, ne'er subdued in waters, waterless,

And make it pure in the Mighty One's name.

4 Moved by the purifier's thought, the Soma flows into the sieve:

By wisdom it hath gained its home.

5 With humble homage, O Lord, have the Soma-drops flowed forth to Thee,

Contending for the glorious prize.

6 Purified in his fleecy garb, attaining every beauty, he

Stands, hero-like, amid the kine.

7 Swelling, as 'twere, to heights of heaven, the stream of the creative juice

Falls lightly on the cleansing sieve.

8 Thus, purifying him who knoweth song mid living men,

Thou wanderest through the cloth of wool.