Rig Veda, tr. by Ralph T.H. Griffith, [1896], at sacred-texts.com
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 himwho knoweth song mid living men,
Thou wanderest through the cloth of wool.