To Indra and Soma you sprinkle round about; O men, the wise surge forth in the forest. Formerly your hymns are present: at the shrine come the thousand-horsed ones and the cattle-bearing sacrificial assistants.

You are effused by the priests, Soma, for Indra; you the observer of men, stimulated, intelligent, are immersed in the water; many are the paths for you to follow, infinite are the spreading green-tinted streams alighting on the cups.

Thou, Soma, art effused for Indra 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.