1. THE pressers from the Soma-press send forth thy juice for rapturous joy The speckled sap runs like a flood. 2 With strength we follow through the sieve him who brings might and wins the kine, Enrobed in water with his juice. 3 Pour on the sieve the Soma, ne’er subdued in waters, waterless, And make it pure for Indra's drink. 4 Moved by the purifier's thought, the Soma flows into the sieve: By wisdom it hath gained its home. 5 With humble homage, Indra, have the Soma-drops flowed forth to thee, Contending for the glorious prize. 6 Purified in his fleecy garb, attaining every beauty, he Stands, hero-like, amid the kine. 7 Swelling, as ’twere, to heights of heaven, the stream of the creative juice Falls lightly on the cleansing sieve. 8 Thus, Soma, purifying him who knoweth song mid living men, Thou wanderest through the cloth of wool.
Bibliography: Rigveda, translated by Ralph Thomas Hotchkin Griffith, (1896)