1 Raising his voice the King hath flowed upon his way: invested with the waters he would win the kine.

The fleece retains his solid parts as though impure, and bright and cleansed he seeks the special place of the righteous.

2 Thou art poured out for the Mighty by the men, balmed in the wood as wave, Sage, Viewer of mankind.

Full many are the paths whereon thou mayest go: a thousand bay steeds hast thou resting in the bowls.

3 They urge the Master of the house upon his way, and to the Eternal Purifier pray for bliss.

4 The juice flows on for us as winner of the kine, winner of thousands, cars, water, and light, and gold;

He whom the righteous have made a gladdening draught to drink, the drop most sweet to taste, weal-bringing, red of hue.

5 As the Purifier, thou, our faithful Friend, making for us these real treasures, flowest on.

Slay thou the enemy both near and far away: grant us security and ample pasturage.