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Click to Expand/Collapse OptionMaṇḍala I
Click to Expand/Collapse OptionMaṇḍala II
Click to Expand/Collapse OptionMaṇḍala III
Click to Expand/Collapse OptionMaṇḍala IV
Click to Expand/Collapse OptionMaṇḍala V
Click to Expand/Collapse OptionMaṇḍala VI
Click to Expand/Collapse OptionMaṇḍala VII
Click to Expand/Collapse OptionMaṇḍala VIII
Click to Expand/Collapse OptionMaṇḍala IX
Click to Expand/Collapse OptionMaṇḍala X
9,85 Soma Pavamana 
9.LXXXV Soma Pavamana 
índrāya soma súṣutaḥ pári srava ápā́mīvā bhavatu rákṣasā sahá |
mā́ te rásasya matsata dvayāvíno dráviṇasvanta ihá santu índavaḥ || 
1 FLOW on to Indra, Soma, carefully effused: let sickness stay afar together with the fiends. Let not the double-tongued delight them with thy juice. here be thy flowing drops laden with opulence. 
asmā́n samaryé pavamāna codaya dákṣo devā́nām ási hí priyó mádaḥ |
jahí śátrūm̐r abhí ā́ bhandanāyatáḥ píbendra sómam áva no mŕ̥dho jahi || 
2 O Pavamana, urge us forward in the fight thou art the vigour of the Gods, the well-loved drink. Smite thou our enemies who raise the shout of joy: Indra, drink Soma juice, and drive away our foes. 
ádabdha indo pavase madíntama ātméndrasya bhavasi dhāsír uttamáḥ |
abhí svaranti bahávo manīṣíṇo rā́jānam asyá bhúvanasya niṃsate || 
3 Unharmed, best Cheerer, thou, O Indu, flowest on: thou, even thou thyself, art Indra's noblest food. Full many a wise man lifts to thee the song of praise, and hails thee with a kiss as Sovran of this world. 
sahásraṇīthaḥ śatádhāro ádbhuta índrāyénduḥ pavate kā́miyam mádhu |
jáyan kṣétram abhí arṣā jáyann apá urúṃ no gātúṃ kr̥ṇu soma mīḍhuvaḥ || 
4 Wondrous, with hundred streams, hymned in a thousand songs, Indu pours out for Indra his delightrul meath. Winning us land and waters, flow thou hitherward: Rainer of bounties, Soma, make broad way for us. 
kánikradat kaláśe góbhir ajyase ví avyáyaṃ samáyā vā́ram arṣasi |
marmr̥jyámāno átiyo ná sānasír índrasya soma jaṭháre sám akṣaraḥ || 
5 Roaring within the beaker thou art balmed with milk: thou passest through the fleecy filter all at once. Carefully cleansed and decked like a prizewinning steed, O Soma, thou hast flowed down within Indra's throat. 
svādúḥ pavasva diviyā́ya jánmane svādúr índrāya suhávītunāmane |
svādúr mitrā́ya váruṇāya vāyáve bŕ̥haspátaye mádhumām̐ ádābhiyaḥ || 
6 Flow onward sweet of flavour for the Heavenly Race, for Indra sweet, whose name is easily invoked: Flow sweet for Mitra, Varuṇa, and Vāyu, rich in meath, inviolable for Bṛhaspati. 
átyam mr̥janti kaláśe dáśa kṣípaḥ prá víprāṇām matáyo vā́ca īrate |
pávamānā abhí arṣanti suṣṭutím éndraṃ viśanti madirā́sa índavaḥ || 
7 Ten rapid fingers deck the Courser in the jar: with hymns the holy singers send their voices forth. The filtering juices hasten to their eulogy, the drops that gladden find their way to Indra's heart. 
pávamāno abhí arṣā suvī́riyam urvī́ṃ gávyūtim máhi śárma sapráthaḥ |
mā́kir no asyá páriṣūtir īśata índo jáyema tuváyā dhánaṃ-dhanam || 
8 While thou art purified pour on us hero strength, great, far-extended shelter, spacious pasturage. Let no oppression master this our holy work: may we, O Indu, gain all opulence through thee. 
ádhi dyā́m asthād vr̥ṣabhó vicakṣaṇó árūrucad ví divó rocanā́ kavíḥ |
rā́jā pavítram áti eti róruvad diváḥ pīyū́ṣaṃ duhate nr̥cákṣasaḥ || 
9 The Steer who sees afar hath risen above the sky: the Sage hath caused the lights of heaven to give their shine. The. King is passing through the filter with a roar: they drain the milk of heaven from him who looks on men. 
divó nā́ke mádhujihvā asaścáto venā́ duhanti ukṣáṇaṃ giriṣṭhã́m |
apsú drapsáṃ vāvr̥dhānáṃ samudrá ā́ síndhor ūrmā́ mádhumantam pavítra ā́ || 
10 High in the vault of heaven, unceasing, honey-tongued, the Loving Ones drain out the mountain-haunting Steer, —The drop that hath grown great in waters, in the lake meath-rich, in the stream's wave and in the cleansing sieve. 
nā́ke suparṇám upapaptivā́ṃsaṃ gíro venā́nām akr̥panta pūrvī́ḥ |
śíśuṃ rihanti matáyaḥ pánipnataṃ hiraṇyáyaṃ śakunáṃ kṣā́maṇi sthā́m || 
11 The Loving Ones besought with many voices the Eagle who had flown away to heaven. Hymns kiss the Youngling worthy of laudation, resting on earth, the Bird of golden colour. 
ūrdhvó gandharvó ádhi nā́ke asthād víśvā rūpā́ praticákṣāṇo asya |
bhānúḥ śukréṇa śocíṣā ví adyaut prā́rūrucad ródasī mātárā śúciḥ || 
12 High to heaven's vault hath the Gandharva risen, beholding all his varied forms and figures. His ray hath shone abroad with gleaming splendour: pure, he hath lighted both the worlds, the Parents. 
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