Ananata Paruchchhepi gives three long atyashti verses to Soma Pavamana. Purified with his golden lustre, Soma crosses all hostility with his self-yoked steeds, as the sun does. His stream shines, ruddy and tawny, and he moves through every form with the singers of seven mouths. He found the wealth of the Panis and grooms himself with his mothers in his own home, by the thoughts of Rita. He goes towards the eastern quarter, a bright divine chariot. The hymns have reached Indra, rousing him to victory, and Soma and the vajra stand unshaken in battle.