Whose sons do not harshly raise a hundredfold wrath in an hour; the gifts of the horse-sacrifice are like Soma, threefold crowned.

Whose hundred robust oxen yield me delight, as triple-mixed Soma, the offering of Aśvamedha (gratifies you).

From whom a hundred oxen, all of speckled hue, delight my heart, The gifts of Asvamedha, like thrice-mingled draughts of Soma juice.