We, with the pressed juices, have glorified thee, the flowing waters, not turning aside from the hymns; singers stood around in praise at the outpourings of the sacred one.

We are pouring forth to you Soma like water; the praisers, strewing the clipped sacred grass, worshipyou, slayer of Vṛtra, in the streams (falling) from the filter.

WE compass thee like waters, we whose grass is trimmed and Soma pressed. Here where the filter pours its stream, thy worshippers round thee, O Vrtra-slayer, sit.