May the exhilarating offerings delight you, O Indra—mighty one, whose bounty is great for the singer. Among all the gods, you alone grant favor to mortals. Rejoice, hero, as the sacred Soma is pressed for you. Thus, the Vasiṣṭhas honor Indra, the powerful one with the thunderbolt-strong arm, through their hymns. May he, praised by our words, bestow upon us heroic strength and cattle, and ever shield us with his blessings. Swift and armed with the thunderbolt, bull among beings, mighty king and slayer of obstacles, Indra, drinker of Soma—yoke your two bay steeds and come to the midday pressing, delighting in the offering. We, bearing you as our support, call upon you, O Indra, unprecedented one, as men carrying a heavy load seek help. In the contest for the prize, we invoke you, wondrous one. For our tasks, we seek your aid; may that strong and fierce one come to us. Indra, we have chosen you as our helper and friend, the unassailable one. He who has brought us prosperity before, that Indra I now praise, our friend, for his help. May he, the lord of fine horses, the true master, strong among peoples and ever vigorous, bring us cattle and horses. May Maghavan grant a hundred gifts to the singers. I offer my thoughts to the most mighty, the great, the possessor of vast wealth, whose power is true and whose strength is renowned. His riches, hard to contain, flow open for the energetic, like waters rushing down a slope. Then, for you, all desired things follow, just as waters flow downward for sacrificial offerings—when, on the mountain, Indra’s golden thunderbolt was loosed and shattered what could not be subdued. To him, the awe-inspiring, we offer reverence and worship, as the radiant dawn brings light for the journey. His domain, famed for its name and power, created a shining brilliance for the green ones to lead. We are those, O Indra, praised by many, who, relying on you, move about in abundance. None but you, O singer of praises, supports our words—just as the earth upholds all, so do you delight in this speech. Much is your heroic power, O Indra. Grant the wish of this singer, O Maghavan, fulfill his desire. The vast sky follows your might, and the earth bends to your strength. With your thunderbolt, O Indra, you broke apart the great mountain, released the confined waters to flow, and by your strength alone established all. Like birds rising and protecting themselves, their loud voices sounding as if from a cloud, the strong ones, born of the mountain, approach Bṛhaspati with their hymns, rejoicing. With cows, the Angiras, striving, led Aryaman like Bhaga; among people, like Mitra unites a couple. O Bṛhaspati, grant us swift strength in contests. The sacrificial offerings, the guests, the seers—precious, golden, flawless in form—Bṛhaspati, breaking through the mountains, released the cows from the hollows as one shakes out barley from the stalks. He sprinkled with honey, casting the hymn like a meteor from the sky into the womb of truth. Bṛhaspati, lifting from the stone, broke through the earth as one splits the skin from the udder. With light, he drove away darkness from the midspace, as wind blows the fleece from the udder. Bṛhaspati, searching, scattered Vala’s cloud as wind breaks apart the cows. When Bṛhaspati, with fire and hymns, broke the stronghold of Vala, he took the hidden treasure as one takes with the tongue, revealing the concealed wealth of the cows. Knowing their names, Bṛhaspati found the singers’ abode, hidden within; like breaking an egg, the womb of the bird, he released the cows from the mountain by his power. They saw the honey, tightly enclosed, like a weak fish dwelling in water. He shook out the ladle from the tree—Bṛhaspati, with his cry, breaking it apart. He found the sun, he found fire, and with his hymn dispelled the darkness. Bṛhaspati, from Vala’s cow-form, seized the hidden one as one takes from the joints. Like leaves stripped by frost, Bṛhaspati made Vala release the cows. He restored what was not imitated, and those who moved together brought forth the sun. Like a dark horse among the thin ones, the ancestors adorned the sky with stars. In the night they placed darkness, in the day, light; Bṛhaspati split the mountain and released the cows. This act is for the Unharmed One, with reverence—he who follows the ancient paths anew. May Bṛhaspati grant us cows, horses, heroes, men, and long life. Towards Indra, all our inspired thoughts, knowing the light, go together, shining; as wives embrace a husband, so the peoples draw near to the generous Lord for help. My mind does not turn from you, O much-invoked one; in you alone is my desire placed. Like a mighty king, sit here on the sacred grass and drink Soma with us. Indra, the strengthener, drives away want and hunger; that generous one is the lord of wealth. For him, on these slopes, seven rivers flow; the wings of the mighty bull grow strong. Like birds settling on a well-leaved tree, the joyous ones approach Indra, the Soma-drinker, for the feast. His face, flashing with power, shines forth; he finds the light for the worshipper. The dog-killing weapon does not scatter the divine wealth, when the generous one wins the sun. No other matches your strength, neither ancient nor new, O generous one. The generous one encompasses every people; the bull calls forth the cows among men. For whom, O mighty one, you delight in the offerings, he endures fierce battles with strong Somas. As waters rush together into a river, so the Somas flow to Indra, like channels to a lake. The inspired ones increase his greatness in the seat of might, as rain nourishes barley by divine power. Like a bull enraged, flying through the spaces, who drove away the wives of the foe—he, the generous one, found light for the worshipper who pours the Soma, for the one who offers with devotion. May the axe rise up, shining with light; may the ancient cow yield abundant milk of truth. Let the bright one shine forth with his red radiance; let the good lord display his pure brilliance. With cows, drive away hostile thoughts, O much-invoked one; with barley, all hunger; with wealth, all want. May we, with our kings, win the foremost riches by our own strength. May Bṛhaspati protect us from behind, above, and below, from harm; may Indra guard us in front and in the middle. As a friend among friends, may he make a path for us. Bṛhaspati, you and Indra are lords of heavenly and earthly wealth; grant riches to the one who praises, even to the singer. Always protect us with blessings. We, your friends, come to you, Indra, for this purpose; the Kaṇvas praise you with hymns. Never, O wielder of the bolt, have the waters failed at the new moon; your praise alone they recognize. The gods desire the one who presses Soma; they do not long for sleep, but go tirelessly to the feast. Thus, with hymns and offerings, the people call to Indra and Bṛhaspati, honoring their mighty deeds and seeking their blessings, strength, and abundance for all time.