No one in heaven or on earth—none born, nor any yet to be born—can equal you, O generous Indra. Mighty lord of horses, sought by those who wish for cattle, we call upon you. May we be blessed with splendid gatherings in your presence, Indra, gatherings rich in rewards, so that we may rejoice together. Come to us in your strength, unconquered and bold, as steadfast as a chariot’s axle that never breaks. Whenever you, O hundred-powered one, grant the wishes of your singers, you do so with unyielding might, just as that chariot axle bears its load. Behold the divinity and greatness of the sun, spread across the expanse of the sky. When he seats himself and yokes his green steeds, night draws her garment aside for him. The sun reveals the forms of Mitra and Varuṇa upon the lap of the heavens—one endless power shines forth, while another, darker, is borne by the green ones together. By what wondrous power does Indra come to us, ever-growing, ever our friend? By what supreme aid is he chosen? Among all your delights, which is the greatest, O Indra, who rejoices in the pressed Soma? Even those who are firm and strong you can break, O giver of wealth. Be our protector, Indra—guard our friends and our singers, and may your blessings be a hundredfold. Which of these worlds shall we attain, with Indra and all the gods? May you, Indra, with the Ādityas, arrange our sacrifice, our bodies, and our children. May Indra, the Ādityas, and the Maruts protect us; for when the gods defeated the Asuras and drove them away, they preserved divinity for the world. With your power, Indra, I have sung this hymn, having seen the nourishing food with insight; by your favor, may we win the prize and rejoice for a hundred winters with valiant sons. O Indra, generous one, drive away enemies from every direction—east, west, north, south, above and below—so that we may delight in your vast protection. Even those who possess barley, or the barley itself, may be subdued in order; here, O Indra, prepare food for those who have not approached the sacrificial grass with reverence. No journey is made in vain, nor is fame easily won in gatherings. The wise seek Indra’s friendship, desiring cows and horses, striving for strength. You two, Ashvins, together with Namuci the Asura, have drunk the strong drink; radiant lords, with Indra, you accomplish mighty deeds. Like parents to a son, Ashvins, you and Indra protected him with poetic words and teeth; and when you drank the strong drink with Shachis, Sarasvati praised you, O generous one. Indra, wise and kind, full of good gifts, knowing all things—may he drive away hatred and grant us fearlessness, so we may be lords of heroic strength. May Indra, generous and wise, remove hatred even from us; may we dwell in his favor and joy. The Soma has flowed, and Indra has been honored as a god. Where the mighty monkey drank, my companion, Indra stands above all. Yet, Indra, you fled from the mighty monkey, trembling, for nowhere else did you find Soma to drink—Indra surpasses all. What has this tawny monkey done to you, O noble one? Why are you angered over riches? Indra is above all. This beloved monkey whom you, Indra, protect, is beset—the dog snaps at him, the boar grunts in his ear—yet Indra is superior to all. The monkey revealed my cherished things and acted wickedly; I struck his head, though not easily, for his misdeeds—still, Indra is above all. My woman is not the most beautiful or pleasant; she is not easily swayed, nor is she the most active—but Indra is above all. Mother, easy to obtain—whatever happens, so it will be; my mother, my thigh, my head, all rejoice—Indra is above all. What do you desire from the mighty monkey, O strong-armed, broad-shouldered, broad-thighed one, wife of the hero? Indra is above all. Like a woman without a man, this monkey disregards me; yet I am strong, Indra’s wife, companion of the Maruts—Indra is above all. Long ago, the women went together to the common offering; the creator, Indra’s wife, is honored for her truth—Indra is above all. Among these women, I have heard myself called fortunate, O Indrani; for her, no other husband dies of old age—Indra is above all. I, Indrani, have not delighted in the friendship of Vrishakapi, whose offering—even this—dear among the gods, goes forth; Indra surpasses all. O Revati, wife of Vrishakapi, with good sons and daughters-in-law, Indra, the bull, has consumed a beloved, well-made oblation—Indra surpasses all. Fifteen of my oxen cook together with twenty; I have eaten my fill, both my bellies are satisfied—Indra surpasses all. Like a bull with sharp horns bellowing among the herds, Indra, the churner, brings joy to the heart when the inspired one prepares the offering—Indra surpasses all. He does not lie down, whose thigh quivers within; he does lie down, whose hairy part stretches forth as he sits—Indra surpasses all. He does not lie down, whose hairy part stretches forth as he sits; he does lie down, whose thigh quivers within—Indra surpasses all. This Indra, Vrishakapi, knows the slain one who possessed wealth; he has taken up the new, sharpened knife, the offering placed upon the kindling—Indra surpasses all. This one comes, searching, observing, seeking the Dasa and the Arya; I drink the pressed Soma, approaching the steadfast, the unshaken—Indra surpasses all. Whether it is desert or forest, how many yojanas are there? Come closer, Vrishakapi, at sunset, enter the house—Indra surpasses all. Return, Vrishakapi, let us prepare good fortune; this one, who eats dreams, returns home again by the path—Indra surpasses all.