He, having cried aloud, first proclaimed, ascending the heights; the praise-loving Hari rejoiced. Crossing the sacred brook he encircled it, and the gods placed the best of offerings.

He with a noise re-echoes the principal (praises), separating the growing herbs, the green-tinted (Soma) sweetens them; passing through the filter, (he exerts) great speed, he annihilates the rākṣasas, the shining (Soma) bestows wealth (upon the worshippers).

He bellows with a roar arourd the highest twigs: the Tawny One is sweetened as he breaks them up. Then passing through the sieve into the ample room, the God throws off the dregs according to his wish.