In the sacred halls of Indra’s own dwelling, the devotees gather, preparing the Soma for his delight, hoping their offering will stir the heart of the mighty god. As in ancient times, the Kuśikas, seeking Indra’s favor, press the Soma and call upon him to drink, invoking his power and presence in their ritual. With Indra’s aid, the foremost mortal, skilled and possessing swift horses, moves among the cows, blessed by the god’s abundant gifts. Indra fills him with wealth, just as wise rivers flow toward the sea, bringing prosperity. The divine waters themselves approach the sacrificial priest, perceiving the vastness of the ritual spread out like the sky. The gods guide the devotee forward, delighting in the sacred words and hymns, as the noblest ones do. The hymn is placed upon two—the speech, the praise—by those who serve and honor, the pair who uphold the ritual. Unbound by any constraint, Indra dwells and prospers, granting auspicious power to the sacrificer pressing the Soma. The Angiras, the first among men, established the sacred path; they kindled the fires skillfully and rightly, recovering from the Paṇi all the wealth—food, horses, cows, and cattle—for the people. Through sacrifices, Atharvan first set the paths, and from him was born the Sun, Vena, the observer of vows. May Kāvyā Uśanā come together with the cows, and may we worship the immortal offspring of Yama. Wherever the sacred grass is spread for prosperity, or the hymn resounds in the sky, wherever the pressing stone speaks and the inspired poet chants, there Indra finds delight in the offerings. For Indra of the tawny steeds, the strong, true draught is poured, inviting him to drink. Let him rejoice here with the cows and with all the hymns, praised by every act of power. In every union, in every contest for strength and prize, the devotees call upon Indra, their friend and helper. May he come, hearing their invocation, bringing thousands of aids and prizes. They call upon the ancient dwelling, the greatly wise one, whom Indra’s father invoked before him. The bright, ruddy one is yoked, moving among those who stand still, as lights shine in the sky. His beloved two bays, with full manes, are yoked to his chariot—red, bold, bringing men together. Indra, making a sign for the unseeing and an adornment for the unadorned, was born together with the dawns. If the devotee were, like Indra, the sole lord of wealth, he would make his praiser a friend of cows. He would teach and give to the wise one, if he were master of cattle. Indra, the cow of sweet speech yields for the sacrificer who presses Soma, giving milk, cattle, and horses. There is no limit to Indra’s bounty; neither god nor mortal can match him. When praised, he grants riches. Sacrifice strengthened Indra when he set the earth apart and fixed the supports in the sky. Ever-increasing, the devotees seek all the treasures of the conqueror, choosing Indra’s aid. In the intoxication of Soma, Indra split the midspace and the shining regions, striking the barrier. He drove forth the cows for the Angirases, revealing those who were hidden, and pushed the barrier forward. By Indra, the shining regions of the sky, both firm and established, remain unshaken. Like swelling waters, the hymn rises to Indra with vigor, and his exhilarations spread forth. Indra increases hymns and praises, bringing good fortune to the singers. His tawny steeds, adorned with manes, carry him to drink Soma, approaching the sacrifice rich in gifts. With the foam of waters, Indra struck off Namuci’s head, conquering all contests. With his powers, he wished to ascend the sky and shook down the Dasyus. Indra destroyed the assembly of those who do not press Soma, dispersing them and becoming the supreme Soma-drinker. In the great assembly, Indra is praised, his steeds invoked. Let the delight of the vigorous be his, like clarified butter poured by his horses, and let the hymns enter him, whose form is golden. Those who sing together stir his horses as in the celestial abode, filling him with steeds as cows fill the vessel. Indra, mighty and endowed with horses, is praised. His thunderbolt is tawny, made of iron; his desire, his arms, his wrath—all are tawny, splendid, fair-cheeked. In Indra, the forms of tawny are measured. Like a beacon in the sky, the tawny thunderbolt is placed, victorious and splendid. He struck the serpent, the fair-cheeked, iron one, and the bearer of tawny became thousand-flamed. The ancient sacrificers praised Indra as the tawny-haired; all his deeds are praiseworthy, and his bounty, born of tawny, is most tawny. The tawny steeds draw the chariot of Indra, the joyous, the praised, the exhilarated wielder of the thunderbolt. Many Soma libations are prepared for him; the tawny ones have placed Soma for Indra. The tawny ones have placed Soma for desire and firmness, urging the tawny steeds swiftly. He who delights with his tawny horses fulfills his desire with tawny joy. With tawny beard and tawny hair, iron-bodied and swift, Indra drinks with the tawny ones and grows strong; rich in steeds, he drives away misfortune with his tawny horses. As if for hearing, his tawny mares scatter; for victory, they rush forth; for the sake of the cup, they cleanse it, having drunk the exhilaration of the tawny Soma. Across heaven and earth, Indra is praised for greatness, delighting again and again in the dear hymn. The devotees call upon him to reveal the dwelling—for the tawny one, for the cow, for the sun—honoring Indra, the lord of abundance and power.