When Indra, the mighty one, sets his mind upon the choicest treasures hidden within the mountains, he invigorates the swift, nourishing streams, causing them to flow with abundance. In his search, he discovers the coveted cow concealed within the wild one’s cave, and when the well-nourished ones bring it forth as a prize, it is Indra’s might that makes it possible. Indra’s hands are auspicious and skillful, his palms ever open to grant gifts to those who praise him. The question arises: what could withhold your generosity, O Indra? Will you not remember us? What could possibly prevent you, O mighty one, from bestowing your blessings? Thus, as the sovereign and truthful Indra, he grants safe passage to Pūru by slaying the serpent, clearing the way with his power. O much-praised one, grant us wealth and let us enjoy your divine favor. Now, as we sing your praises, O Indra, grant us nourishment for those who act, as rivers fill the land with plenty. For you, O Hariva, we compose a new hymn; may wisdom guide us always, making us worthy charioteers in your service. Whatever Indra chooses, whatever he desires, the great one accomplishes by his might. Maghavan, strong and bearing the sacred stone, accepts our hymns, our praise, and our soma offerings. With mighty arms, vigorous and the best among men, Indra partakes of the four-sided food. For glory, he tears the wool from Paruṣṇī, whose joints he has shaped for friendship. Born among the gods, Indra shines forth, holding the thunderbolt in his broad arms. With his powerful steeds, he makes the sky resound and brings radiance to the earth. At his coming, all barriers and ancient paths, the lofty sky, the earth, and their origins, resound with his presence. The mother brings forth the force of the cow, and the winds, like men, follow their course. These are your great deeds, O Indra, to be proclaimed among all assemblies. Heroic and bold, you struck down the serpent with your thunderbolt, displaying your might for all to see. By your true and mighty deeds, all the cows flow forth from the udder of the bull, and, fearing your strength, the rivers hasten their course. Here, O Hariva, your divine sisters praise you with their help. When their bonds are loosened, they pour forth in a long, unending stream. The invigorating soma, like a river, delights you, O Indra. The joy you seek is yours, and for us, the shining ray of the swift and strong cow draws near. Make us the most abundant, O mighty one, greatest in heroic deeds and always victorious. For us, destroy those who threaten, break all obstacles, and strike down the enemies of mortals. Hear our striving, O Indra; grant us splendid prizes. May all nourishing gifts and treasures come to us. Be mindful, O Maghavan, of our cows. Now, praised and sung, O Indra, grant us nourishment for the doer, as rivers fill the land. For you, O Hariva, a new hymn is composed; through wisdom, may we ever be your charioteers. How did the great Indra grow, whose priest, accepting sacrifice, approached the soma? Drinking and desiring the offering, the lofty one advanced, pure and intent on wealth. Who is the hero who has entered his fellowship, sharing in his favor? Who has discerned his wondrous deed and become great among the praiseworthy and worshipful? How does Indra hear the one who invokes him? How does he know the new song? What are the many forms of his protection, and how do they speak of him, the generous one, to the worshipper? How does one, striving, not lose his wealth, shining forth in the pursuit of riches? Let the god become knowing; as we offer homage, may he delight in our offerings. At dawn, how did the god delight in the friendship of a mortal? How did he show friendship to his companions, those who sought a well-yoked desire in him? What is that intimate friendship, that brotherhood with companions? When shall we truly declare it? For splendor, his form is well-shaped; his creations shine like the light of the cow. Desiring to slay the deceiver, Indra sharpened his fierce weapons. Even those in debt are not harsh in his presence; the unknown ones, he drove away at dawn. For the sake of truth, many are attentive; the thought of truth destroys wrongs. The proclamation of truth pierced even the deaf, awakening their ears, and the pure ones arrived. The firm foundations of truth are many, shining, wondrous in form. By truth, the long, nourishing streams flow; by truth, the cows have entered into truth. He who walks in truth alone wins truth; the strength of truth is victorious in the contest for cows. For truth, the earth is broad and deep; for truth, the cows are milked in the highest abode. Now, praised and lauded, O Indra, may you grant nourishment to the worshipper, like rivers. For you, O wielder of bay steeds, a new hymn is composed; with thought, may we always be those who ride the chariot. What praise has turned toward Indra, the mighty son, bringing him near with bounty? For the hero gives riches to the singer; as lord of cattle, he does not drive our people away. He is to be invoked in the slaying of Vṛtra; he is to be praised, truly generous Indra. He comes to the aid of mortals, making a wide path for the worshipper’s song. To him, men call in the assembly, desiring gain and striving to make their bodies strong. When they come together, both sides seek offspring and progeny. The peoples strive with energy, the strong ones eager in contest for abundance. When the clans unite, the mighty ones call upon Indra in the gathering. Then, indeed, they worship Indra’s power; the offering is prepared, the sacrificial cake is spread. Soma is pressed, and the eager ones pour it out; they delight in the bull for the sacrifice. He makes a path for him who presses and offers soma to Indra. With united minds, they come together, and he becomes their companion in battles. Whoever today presses soma for Indra, cooks the offering, or roasts the grains—toward him, thoughts and wide paths are directed; in him, Indra places his manly strength. When the mighty one divided Samarya, declaring the contest to the Arya, he called forth his strength for his wife, into the house, with those who press soma. The lesser one moved about with greater wealth, unbought; I did not buy him again when he returned. Though lesser, he was not diminished by much; the poor and skillful indeed draw forth their speech. Who will buy this my Indra with ten cows, when he has struck down our foes? Let him then give him back to me. Now, praised and sung, O Indra, may you pour out wealth for the worshipper as rivers do. For you, O wielder of bay steeds, a new hymn is composed; with insight, may we always be chariot-borne. Who today, desiring the gods, O noble one, has delighted in Indra’s friendship? Who seeks great help for protection, who, at the kindled fire, prays with pressed soma? Who will proclaim with speech for the soma? Who will become a friend for the mindful, seeking Indra’s friendship and kinship with the sage? Who asks for his aid? Who today chooses the help of the gods, who seeks the light of Aditi among the Ādityas? For whom do the Aśvins, Indra, Agni, and the portion of soma drink together with one mind? Thus, the story of Indra’s might, his generosity, and his enduring friendship with mortals unfolds—ever praised, ever invoked, and ever the giver of abundance and victory to those who call upon him with faith.