A mighty wave rises, the wild one stands like a mighty steed; the cowherd grasps mightily. The royal pure chariot, with its thunder of a thousand drops, ascends and the great fame conquers.

The wave of the swee-flavoured (Soma) exfites voices (of praise); clothed in water the mighty one plural nges (into the pitcher); the king whose chariot is the filter mounts for the conflict, and, armed with a thousand weapons, wins ample sustenance (for us).

The wave of flowing meath hath wakened up desires: the Steer enrobed in milk plunges into the streams. Borne on his chariot-sieve the King hath risen to war, and with a thousand rays hath won him high renown.