Text:

Rig Veda Book 9 Hymn 100 अभी नवन्ते अद्रुहः परियमिन्द्रस्य काम्यम | वत्सं न पूर्व आयुनि जातं रिहन्ति मातरः || पुनान इन्दवा भर सोम दविबर्हसं रयिम | तवं वसूनिपुष्यसि विश्वानि दाशुषो गर्हे || तवं धियं मनोयुजं सर्जा वर्ष्टिं न तन्यतुः | तवं वसूनि पार्थिवा दिव्या च सोम पुष्यसि || परि ते जिग्युषो यथा धारा सुतस्य धावति | रंहमाणाव्यव्ययं वारं वाजीव सानसिः || करत्वे दक्षाय नः कवे पवस्व सोम धारया | इन्द्राय पातवे सुतो मित्राय वरुणाय च || पवस्व वाजसातमः पवित्रे धारया सुतः | इन्द्राय सोमविष्णवे देवेभ्यो मधुमत्तमः || तवां रिहन्ति मातरो हरिं पवित्रे अद्रुहः | वत्सं जातंन धेनवः पवमान विधर्मणि || पवमान महि शरवश्चित्रेभिर्यासि रश्मिभिः | शर्धन तमांसि जिघ्नसे विश्वानि दाशुषो गर्हे || तवं दयां च महिव्रत पर्थिवीं चाति जभ्रिषे | परति दरापिममुञ्चथाः पवमान महित्वना ||

abhī navante adruhaḥ priyamindrasya kāmyam | vatsaṃ na pūrva āyuni jātaṃ rihanti mātaraḥ || punāna indavā bhara soma dvibarhasaṃ rayim | tvaṃ vasūnipuṣyasi viśvāni dāśuṣo ghṛhe || tvaṃ dhiyaṃ manoyujaṃ sṛjā vṛṣṭiṃ na tanyatuḥ | tvaṃ vasūni pārthivā divyā ca soma puṣyasi || pari te jighyuṣo yathā dhārā sutasya dhāvati | raṃhamāṇāvyavyayaṃ vāraṃ vājīva sānasiḥ || kratve dakṣāya naḥ kave pavasva soma dhārayā | indrāya pātave suto mitrāya varuṇāya ca || pavasva vājasātamaḥ pavitre dhārayā sutaḥ | indrāya somaviṣṇave devebhyo madhumattamaḥ || tvāṃ rihanti mātaro hariṃ pavitre adruhaḥ | vatsaṃ jātaṃna dhenavaḥ pavamāna vidharmaṇi || pavamāna mahi śravaścitrebhiryāsi raśmibhiḥ | śardhan tamāṃsi jighnase viśvāni dāśuṣo ghṛhe || tvaṃ dyāṃ ca mahivrata pṛthivīṃ cāti jabhriṣe | prati drāpimamuñcathāḥ pavamāna mahitvanā ||

Translation:

Rig Veda

  1. THE Guileless Ones are singing praise to Indra’s well beloved Friend, As, in the morning of its life, the mothers lick the new-born calf. 2 O Indu, while they cleanse thee bring, O Soma, doubly-waxing wealth Thou in the worshipper’s abode causest all treasures to increase. 3 Set free the. song which mind hath yoked, even as thunder frees the rain: All treasures of the earth and heaven, O Soma, thou dost multiply. 4 Thy stream when thou art pressed runs on like some victorious warrior’s steed Hastening onward through the fleece like a fierce horse who wins the prize. 5 Flow on, Sage Soma, with thy stream to give us mental power and strength, Effused for Indra, for his drink, for Mitra and for Varuṇa. 6 Flow to the filter with thy stream, effused, best winner, thou, of spoil, O Soma, as most rich in sweets for Indra, Viṣṇu, and the Gods. 7 The mothers, void of guiles, caress thee Golden-coloured, in the sieve, As cows, O Pavamana, lick the new-born calf, as Law commands. 8 Thou, Pavamana, movest on with wondrous rays to great renown. Striving within the votary’s house thou drivest all the glooms away. 9 Lord of great sway, thou liftest thee above the heavens, above the earth. Thou, Pavamana hast assumed thy coat of mail in majesty.