Wool filter

O Soma, being pressed by the stones, through the imperishable wool-filters — like a man into a stronghold, the tawny one has entered into the two bowls;

Your honeyed streams have flowed forward when, purified, you pass beyond the woollen filters.

Soma, self-purifying in the imperishable wool filter, the Pavamāna has pervaded, playing like an infant — the drop of a thousand streams, a hundred prizes.

Your honey-sweet streams have been released, having passed through the barrier when purified, past the wool;

O Soma, roaring, pressed with stones, pass through the wool filters of the sheep;

O Soma, purifying yourself, ever wakeful, beloved as you flow around through the wool filters;