The Rig Veda/Mandala 9/Hymn 37

1. SOMA, the Steer, effused for draught, flows to the purifying sieve,
     Slaying the fiends, loving the Gods.
2. Far-sighted, tawny-coloured, he flows to the sieve, intelligent,
     Bellowing, to his place of rest.
3. This vigorous Pavamana runs forth to the luminous realm of heaven,
     Fiend-slayer, through the fleecy sieve.
4. This Payamana up above Trita's high ridge hath made the Sun,
     Together with the Sisters, shine.
5. This Vrtra-slaying Steer, effused, Soma room-giver, ne'er deceived,
     Hath gone, as 'twere, to win the spoil.
6. Urged onward by the sage, the God speeds forward to the casks of wood,
     Indu to Indra willingly.