This Soma’s juice, the pressed and mixed, O Soma, I savour; the rows are being cooked, there are wealths. Men praising Indra and makers of inspired hymns, chanting, brought the gods near.

That libation is most perfectly mixed when, upon its being effused, the cakes are baked, and the barley is fried, and the priests, glorifying Indra, offering the (sacrificial) food, and reciting holy prayers, are approaching most nigh to the gods.

That Soma when effused hath best consistence, for which the food is dressed and grain is mingled; By which the men who pray, extolling Indra chief favourites of Gods, recite their praises.