As those devoted to the gods gather and distribute wealth with joyful songs, so too, O great one, may your name be renowned among all people. For you are seen together with Indra, returning in the company of the fearless, both radiant with equal brilliance. The festival itself shines forth, resounding with flawless hymns, and the desired hosts of Indra are present in their splendor. From the shining expanse of the sky above, we invite you to come near us, for here our songs rise together in praise. Whether from here, or from the highest point, or from the sky above the earth, or even from the vastness of the firmament, we seek Indra, calling him from every direction. The singers lift their voices in great hymns to Indra; those who chant, those who praise, all call upon him with devotion. Indra is present, united with the two sacred fires, his power joined with sacred speech; he, the wielder of the thunderbolt, shines with a golden form. With far-seeing vision, Indra made the sun rise in the sky, setting it in motion with the cows, spreading light and life. Indra, mighty one, protect us in battles and in contests for a thousandfold reward, with your powerful aids. We call upon you, Indra, possessor of great wealth, youthful and strong, armed with the thunderbolt and ready for battle against our foes. O vigorous one, grant us our offering, bring us increase in our gatherings, and let nothing withstand us. Whoever, in the generations to come, offers praises to Indra the thunderer, his praise will never be in vain. Like a bull among the herd, Indra advances with strength among the people, the unconquered lord. Among men, he alone rules over the treasures; Indra is the lord of the five peoples. From every side, from all peoples, we call upon Indra—let him be ours alone. O Indra, bring us wealth that is victorious, ever-conquering, and overflowing for our prosperity. With your strength, may we strike down our foes and bring down our adversaries. With your help, may we take up the thunderbolt and conquer in battle. With heroes and warriors, with you as our ally, may we overcome all who attack us. Great indeed is Indra, and let his greatness shine as the thunderer; even the sky cannot match his vast might. Whether people seek offspring together or the inspired seek wisdom, all turn to him. His belly, eager for Soma, swells like the sea, and his abundance is like the summit of the waters. His true and splendid speech, rich and vast, is a ripened branch for the generous. So, O Indra, your powers and aids are always ready for the worshipper. Your praise and our hymns, full of desire, are offered for you to drink the Soma. Come, Indra, delighting in Soma, to all our festivals, with great strength and power. Pour out the pressed Soma for Indra, who delights in it, making all things possible for the doer. Rejoice, O fair-jawed Indra, in our hymns, O universal lord, together with those at the offerings. For you, Indra, we have poured forth songs; to you our devotion is recited, to you, the bull, the lord. Urge on the splendid, swift, and excellent one, O Indra, let him be your mighty, all-powerful champion. Urge us to wealth, to glory, to renown, O Indra. Grant us cattle, horses, wide and great fame, and undiminished life for all, O Indra. Bestow upon us abundant might and wealth by the thousands, O Indra, with your chariot-bearing gifts. With our hymns we praise Indra, the lord of wealth, the ancient one, the singer, the bringer of offerings for aid. In every pressing, in every home, the mighty one is praised; offer a strong hymn to Indra. At all the pressings, they yoke you, Indra, the one bull, together and separately, with their will and effort. Like a ship or a raft, we set you in the yoke of praise; with hymns, the eager ones call you with sacrifices. The helpers, paired together, have spread you out, Indra, as leader of the herd and releaser of cattle. When those who seek cattle and light gather, you reveal your mighty, ever-strong weapon. May the dawn accept us; may she be aware of our hymn, awake to our offering, O bringer of light, as we present our oblations. When you, Indra, the bull and wielder of the bolt, are intent to slay the foe, hear my newest song, O wise one. To you, O hero, are these pressings; for you I compose all the hymns that increase your glory. You are to be invoked by men in every way. Even those who think themselves strong do not attain your greatness, O mighty one; your manliness, Indra, nor your boundless generosity.