Among men, Indra stands as the champion of the weak, the poor, and the singer who has no support. He is the protector of those who press the sacred Soma, the fair-jawed guardian who aids those yoked to the stones. Wherever horses gallop, cows graze, villages thrive, and chariots roll, Indra’s presence is found. He who brought forth the sun and the dawn, who leads the waters, is Indra. Those bound and wailing, whether near or far—even enemies standing side by side on the same chariot—call upon him with different voices. Without Indra, people do not win; those who fight cry out for his help. He has become the measure of all things, shaking even the unshakable. Indra is the one who struck down the arrogant, those ever-proud ones who thought themselves invincible. He does not let the hostile escape, and he is the slayer of the Dasyu. For forty years, Sambara hid among the mountains, but Indra found him and struck him down, along with the swelling serpent and the sleeping Danu. With the Kasis, Indra overcame Sambara; he drank the Soma of the Asnās. Within the mountain, in his presence, the sacrificing, abundant people were overwhelmed. Like a mighty bull of seven rays, Indra released the seven rivers to flow, and with the thunderbolt in his arm, he struck down Rauhina as he ascended to the sky. Heaven and earth bow to Indra, and the mountains fear his might. He drinks the Soma, his arms thunder, and he wields the thunderbolt. He protects the one who presses, who cooks, who praises, who seeks help. For him, the hymn is strength, Soma is his delight, and all wealth belongs to him. Born in the lap of his parents, Indra knows no origin but his own. He is to be praised by us, he follows our vows, and among the gods, he stands supreme. He desires Soma, swift-bayed and wise, from whom all beings tremble. He slew Shambara and Shushna, the sole hero. Even for those who press and cook, Indra grants the prize. True are his gifts, and may we, always dear to him, speak forth in the assembly, strong among men. To Indra, the most generous with prayers, we direct our praise, as an offering for strength and greatness. With verses, like eager horses, we drive forth hymns for him. With heart, mind, and thought, we adorn our insights for Indra, the ancient lord. Supreme and radiant songs are offered to him, with the greatest words of praise and well-formed hymns, magnifying his generosity. Like a craftsman fitting a chariot for strength, we join our hymns for Indra, the singer-loving, wise, all-encompassing one. Like a charioteer seeking fame, we yoke our hymn with our tongue, honoring the heroic, bountiful, ancient, renowned, and law-abiding lord of many cities. Tvashtar fashioned the thunderbolt for Indra, most skillful and worthy of heaven, with which he struck even the vital spot of Vritra, scattering the hosts. At his mother’s pressings, Indra drank the great draught and the father’s nourishing food. Vishnu aided him, the stronger, in the cooking; he struck the boar and cast the mountain aside. Even the goddesses, wives of the gods, sang hymns to Indra for his great deeds. Heaven and earth embraced him, but none has encompassed his greatness. Indra’s greatness extends from heaven and earth and the midspace. As lord of the sun, all-renowned, he takes up the radiance for battle. With his might, Indra cut apart Vritra with the thunderbolt and released the waters, eager for fame and insight. The rivers rejoice in his force, for with the thunderbolt he confines the stream. He grants favor to the worshipper, swift and generous, giving depth to the eager Turvani. Indra split the joints of the cow, drove them apart, and moved the floods to roam the waters. His ancient and new deeds are spoken of with hymns. Armed for battle, wielding weapons, he strives and drives out the enemies. At his birth, the firm mountains and broad heavens tremble. At the call of the singer, shelter is joined, and inspiration becomes strength for heroic deeds. Indra rules as sole lord among the givers, striving for the sun, outstripping rivals for the prize of good horses, with strength. Thus, the Gotamas have composed splendid hymns for Indra, the delight of chariots. In these, he has placed all-beautiful wisdom, and may the generous one swiftly come to us in the morning with wisdom. He alone, worthy of sacrifice among peoples, is Indra. Let us honor him with these songs. The bull, strong in strength, true in being, full of many powers, mighty. Our ancient fathers, the Navagvas, the seven sages, glorified him, seeking victory. With thoughts, they praised the mighty one who stands on the mountain, whose words are without falsehood. We seek Indra, lord of wealth, of many heroes, giver of much, ever youthful, ageless, possessor of light. Bring him here, O charioteer, to gladden us. Indra, tell us if your singers of old ever brought you favor. What is your share, what strength, what vigor, O much-invoked, rich in gifts, slayer of demons? She who questions Indra, wielder of the bolt, standing on the chariot, finds her voice trembling and quivering. His grasp is strong, his form mighty, his giving generous, and she seeks to approach the powerful one for gain. By his power, Indra has grown through his own magic, swift-minded and self-reliant, with the mountain. He shatters the unshaken, breaks the strong, and splits the firm with his boldness, the destroyer. To him, most powerful, ancient, ever new, let our thoughts turn for protection. May Indra, the good helper, carry us beyond all difficulties. For the people, kindle the earthly and heavenly fires, and those of the midspace. Burn, O bull, with your flame on every side; burn those who hate prayer and those who harm the earth. Indra is king of the heavenly people, of the earthly world, of all that moves, with fierce vision. Take the bolt in your right hand, O Indra, and protect us from all harm, defeating all magic. Bring us, Indra, unbroken welfare for victory over foes, with which you, with the bolt, have subdued the Dasa, the Arya, the Vritra, and the Nahusha. Come to us, O much-invoked, wise Indra, with your bands, with all gifts, O worthy of worship. With these, which neither godless nor god can withstand, come quickly, delighting in the Soma.