Let us begin with the dawn of sacred song, rising in the skies like the Sama, as the radiant, resounding one is praised. The cows, gentle and unbound, move freely toward the divine abode, a sign of abundance and grace. In the midst of sacrifice, the mighty bull—honored with offerings and praised among his kind—stands ready, not as food, but as a noble being yoked for ritual. He is the worthy one, bringing the twin offerings, the hotar, whose mind and song kindle the sacred fire. The hotar, marking the dwelling, draws forth the embryo from the vast earth. The neighing horse leads, roaring, while the cow acts as a messenger between heaven and earth, uttering the words of connection. The divine deeds of Ashtar are carried by ancient gods. Indra, radiant in splendor, rejoices, like the Nasatyas, skillful in chariots. Indra is praised as truly strong, heroic, generous, and skilled in chariots. Even when opposed by the mighty, he conquers, destroying darkness. When his greatness is manifest among men, the two worlds are held in his embrace. Indra unites the people, supports the vast earth like a roof, and upholds the sky. In battle, Indra is the strongest among the strong, renowned for victory. With him, the earths and even their lord sing in joy, offering prizes. During the Soma-pressings, the waters rejoice in him, and all things delight in Indra. If he desires, the cow and the peoples are his to lead. Men praise Indra as a friend, well-pleased and generous, blessing him with songs. He is swift in deeds, guiding the hymns. Without rivals, he is honored by men, and may Indra, wielder of the thunderbolt, be with us. Like friends, the good lord is approached with sacrifices, as in the days of old. For every sacrifice, Indra is sought, even by those who offer with mind alone. At the crossing, he is thirsted for, like one longing for a long journey, making the path smooth. Indra, do not abandon us in battles with the gods, for your strength is ever new. The Maruts, too, praise his generosity with song and offerings. This praise is for Indra and for us; may it help us find the path, O Hariva. May Indra turn toward us for good fortune, granting us knowledge and longevity among the people. Indra is king, and the gods protect men. Mighty one, protect us. You are the true lord, generous savior, powerful and united among the Vasus. Drive away, Indra, the hostile voices of the people—break the seven fortresses, grant autumnal protection, release the waters without blame, and break Vṛtra for Purukutsa. Indra has protected the wives of heroes and the sky with his powers. He has destroyed the demon, the parched one, the swift Turvayāṇa, like a lion in the house, and the sins of the wealthy. He lay in that womb for glory, and by his greatness, released the waters in battle, standing firm with bold, splendid steeds, seeking prizes. Carry Kutsa, Indra, in the chariot where the eager, swift horses of the wind are harnessed. Let the sun’s wheel move forward in the vast expanse, and with your thunder-armed might, drive away the foes. You have struck down enemies like Mitra, urged on the swift ones as charioteer, and brought offspring to the deserving who seek alliance. Indra, wise and generous, in contest for the sun, gave the earth as support for the Dāsa. He made three shining gifts; do not grant a home to the malicious, O destroyer of evil speech. Ever-new powers come to Indra—strength from the sky to overcome obstacles. He shatters fortresses of the godless, breaks barriers, and resists the deadly god’s drink. Indra shakes the shaking ones, releasing waters like streams. When he crosses the sea, he leads Turvaśa and Yadu to safety. Be for us all-protecting, Indra, unassailable lord of men, conqueror of all contests; help us know this long-lived people. Indra’s exhilaration is like strong drink in the great vessel. His exhilarating Soma is powerful, bestowing a thousand prizes. Let this exhilarating, mighty intoxication come to us, Indra unconquered by mortals. As hero and winner, he urges on the chariot of men, destroying the lawless Dasyu like fire in a vessel. Steal away the sun, O wise one, with your power; bring destruction to Śuṣṇa, carry Kutsa with the horses of the wind. Your intoxication is most exhilarating, your strength most glorious; slayer of Vṛtra, provider of wide space, be mindful, bestower of horses. As you were for former singers, Indra, never satiated like the waters, so I call to you with this invocation. May we know this people, long-lived. Delight in us for well-being, Indra, with exhilarating Soma, O bull of the people. You are invoked by the eager, and the hostile do not find victory. Direct your songs to him who alone among peoples is praised, whom they approach according to his nature, like barley to the bull who bestows. In Indra’s two hands are all treasures of the five peoples. Seek out those hostile to us, strike them down like a bolt from heaven. Strike down the non-sacrificer, the malicious one who is not your friend; grant us knowledge, and do not let even the wise take away our portion. Indra’s twofold might abides with the hymns, joined with the summit; bring us, Indra and Soma, to the prize, bring the vigorous one to the contests. Just as in former times, Indra, you were for the singers like water that never tires, so now I call upon you—may we know this people, long-lived. The bull, lord of men, king of peoples—Indra, much-invoked—comes forth. Seeking renown, he is praised and called to our offering. He yokes his two strong steeds and approaches swiftly. Those powerful, bull-like steeds, yoked by hymns, draw his chariot; mount them, Indra, come swiftly, for we call you to the pressed Soma. Mount your strong chariot, O mighty one; your pressed Soma is poured out with sweets. Yoke your two strong steeds, O bull of the people, come with the bay horses to our offering. This is the sacrifice for the gods, the wise act, the hymns, the Soma. The seat is spread—come, O Shakra, drink, sit down, release your horses here. O well-praised Indra, come swiftly to the hymns of the worthy singer. By your favor, may we singing know wealth; may we know this people, long-lived. Thus, the story flows: the people call upon Indra, the mighty king and generous lord, praising his deeds, seeking his protection, and invoking his blessings. Through sacrifice, song, and devotion, they honor him, asking for strength, prosperity, and the enduring knowledge of their people. Indra, ever radiant and victorious, is the heart of their prayers, the upholder of heaven and earth, the friend and champion of humankind.