Rig Veda. Book 9
3:07 h
The Rigveda (Sanskrit: ऋग्वेद ṛgveda, from ṛc “praise” and veda “knowledge”) is an ancient Indian collection of Vedic Sanskrit hymns along with associated commentaries on liturgy, ritual and mystical exegesis. It is one of the four sacred canonical texts (śruti) of Hinduism known as the Vedas. The core text, known as the Rigveda Samhita, is a collection of 1,028 hymns (sūktas) in about 10,600 verses (called ṛc, eponymous of the name Rigveda), organized into ten books (maṇḍalas). In the eight books that were composed the earliest, the hymns are mostly praise of specific deities. The younger books (books 1 and 10) in part also deal with philosophical or speculative questions, with the virtue of dāna (charity) in society and with other metaphysical issues in their hymns.
The Rig Veda
Ralph T.H. Griffith, Translator
Book 9

HYMN I. Soma Pavamana.

In sweetest and most gladdening stream flow pure, O Soma, on thy way,
Pressed out for Indra, for his drink.

Fiend-queller, Friend of all men, he hath with the wood attained unto
His place, his iron-fashioned home.

Be thou best Vṛitra-slayer, best granter of bliss, most liberal:
Promote our wealthy princes’ gifts.

Flow onward with thy juice unto the banquet of the Mighty Gods:
Flow hither for our strength and fame.

O Indu, we draw nigh to thee, with this one object day by day:
To thee alone our prayers are said.

By means of this eternal fleece may Sūrya’s Daughter purify
Thy Soma that is foaming forth.

Ten sister maids of slender form seize him within the press and hold
Him firmly on the final day.

The virgins send him forth: they blow the the skin musician-like and fuse
The triple foe-repelling meath.

Inviolable milch-kine round about him blend for Indra’s drink,
The fresh young Soma with their milk.

In the wild raptures of this draught, Indra slays all the Vṛitras: he,
The Hero, pours his wealth on us.

HYMN II. Soma Pavamana.

Soma, flow on, inviting Gods, speed to the purifying cloth:
Pass into Indra, as a Bull.

As mighty food speed hitherward, Indu, as a most splendid Steer:
Sit in thy place as one with strength.

The well-loved meath was made to flow, the stream of the creative juice:
The Sage drew waters to himself.