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.