1 Laid like an arrow on the bow, the hymn hath been loosed, like a young calf to the udder of its dam.

As one who cometh first with full stream she is milked: the offering is impelled to this man's holy rites.

2 The thought is deeply fixed; the savoury juice is shed; the tongue with joyous sound is stirring in the mouth;

And, like the shout of combatants, the drop rising in sweet juice is flowing through the fleece.

3 He flows about the sheep-skin, longing for his place: he looses the gifts of mercy for the worshipper.

The sacred drink hath come, gold-tinted, well-restrained: like a strong bull he shines, whetting his manly might.

4 The Bull is sounding; the Cows are coming nigh.

Onward hath the juice passed through the sheep's fair bright fleece, and hath, as 'twere, put on a garment newly washed.

5 The golden-hued, newly bathed, puts on a brightly shining vesture that is never harmed.

He made the ridge of heaven to be his radiant robe, by sprinkling of the bowls from moisture of the sky.

6 Even as the beams of the sun, urging men to speed, that cheer and send to sleep, together rush they forth,

These swift outpourings in the long course of holy rites: no form save only the Mighty shows itself so pure.

7 As down the steep slope of a river to the vale, drawn from the Steer, the swift strong draughts have found a way.

Well be it with the men and cattle in our home. May powers and the people stay with us.

8 Pour out upon us wealth in goods, in gold, in steeds, in cattle and in corn, and great heroic strength.

Ye are my forebears' bounty, lifted up on high, and makers of the strength of life.

9 These purifying drops are sped forth to the Mighty like cars to booty.

Poured out, they pass the cleansing fleece, while, gold-hued, they cast their covering off to pour the rain down.

10 O pure drop, flow thou on for the lofty Mighty One, flow blameless, very gracious, foe-destroyer.

Bring splendid treasures to the man who lauds thee. O Heaven and Earth, protect us, with all the angels.