Where is that mighty Indra, who accomplished such wondrous deeds? Among which peoples does he move now, and which sacrifice gladdens his heart? What hymn calls him forth, and who is the priest that wins his favor? O ever-victorious Indra, your ancient friends—those born before, those of the middle times, and even the youngest—are all eager for you. Be mindful of them, O much-invoked, for each generation seeks your presence anew. The later ones, those who come after, look back in wonder at your ancient glories, O Indra. We praise you, heroic bearer of prayers, as much as we know you, O great one. Now, the strength of the Rakshasas rises against you. Stand firm in your great birth, O bold Indra. With your ancient, fitting friendship and your thunderbolt, drive away the foes, just as you have always done. Listen, Indra, to the prayer of the new singer, for you have ever been the helper of our fathers in the highest heaven, always well-invoked at the sacrifice. Let us call upon Varuna, Mitra, Indra, and the Maruts for our aid today. May Pūshan, Vishnu, Agni, Purandhi, Savitar, the plants, and the mountains also come to our help. Many singers, worthy of sacrifice, honor you with hymns, O Indra; hear the call of the one who invokes you, for none is immortal like you. Come near to my speech, O wise one, with all the sons of strength, who are worthy of sacrifice—those whose tongues are Agni, upholders of truth, who made Manu chief among the people. Be our leader, knowing both the good and difficult paths, our guide on the way. With your tireless, far-reaching helpers, O Indra, bring us to the prize. Indra alone is to be invoked by all peoples—let us honor him with hymns. He is the bull, strong in might, true in being, rich in many forms, and powerful. Our forefathers, the Navagvas and the seven sages, seeking victory, praised him; they did not miss the mark, for Indra, the strong one on the mountain, is true in word and thought. We praise Indra, lord of riches, of many heroes, of men, and of great strength. Ageless, unwearied, and radiant, O Hariva, bring to us delight and abundance. If, O Indra, those who praised you in ancient times brought you joy, tell us—what is your share, what strength is yours, O much-invoked, rich in gifts, destroyer of the Asura? She who questions Indra, the wielder of the bolt, standing on his chariot—her trembling voice now sings his praise. To him of mighty grasp, powerful form, and giver of riches, she seeks a path to the prize. Indra, who has grown by his own power, swift as thought and self-strong, even with the mountain, his own force breaks apart the firm and the shining. To him, the most powerful, ancient, and ever-new, we should direct our thoughts and surround him with praise. May Indra, unopposed, bring us safe passage and overcome all difficulties. For the people, make the earthly and heavenly realms shine, O mighty one, and burn with your radiance on all sides—burn those who hate prayer and those who are barren of the earth. You are king of the heavenly people and the earthly world, with a fierce gaze. Take up the bolt in your right hand, O Indra, and with it, strike down all the unaging powers and illusions. Come, Indra, with undiminished welfare for us, for victory over enemies, with your great, unfailing strength—with which you have subdued Dasa and Aryan foes, and the hostile Nahusha. Come to us, O much-invoked, wise one, with your hosts and all your gifts, O worthy of sacrifice. With those whom neither godless nor god can surpass, come here, urged on, to our pressing-stone, O Indra. You, Indra, are praised in the pressed Soma, in the hymn, in the song, in the recited verse—whether you come yoked with your two bay steeds, O generous one, bearing the bolt in your arms. Whether in the highest heaven, you aid in the slaying of Vritra or in heroic battle, or when you made the Dasyus flee in terror and the hostile ones trembled at your might. May Indra drink the pressed Soma—strong, protector, fierce, supporter of the singer. May he make space for the hero, grant wealth to the one who praises, even to the singer. He comes to the pressings with his two bay steeds, tawny, bearing the bolt, drinking Soma, bestowing cows. He makes the hero, the manly, all-powerful; he hears the call, bringing the hymn with praise. To him, whatever we have done, we declare to Indra, our helper from above. In the pressed Soma, we praise with a song, the hymn that increases as it should. For you have made the hymns, the means of increase; so far, O Indra, we have discerned with our thoughts. In the pressed Soma, O Soma-drinker, the most pleasing, we shall perform the acts and fill your stores with sacrifices. Be mindful of us, accept our offering, drink the Soma, O Indra, who roars like a bull. Sit on this sacred grass of the sacrificer, and make wide the space for the one who seeks you. So be delighted according to your desire, O mighty one; may these sacrifices reach you. Let these invocations come to us; to you, O Indra, belong these wise, fitting thoughts. Friends, as at the pressings, fill Indra, the generous one, with Soma, the giver—who knows if he will be for us in battle? For Indra, in the pressed Soma, does not fail to help. Here, Indra has rejoiced in the pressed Soma among the Bharadvājas, the generous lord; as a singer, as a wise one, Indra is the giver of all kinds of wealth. Indra, the bull, is exhilarated by praise and hymns; he delights in Soma, the drinker of the pressed juice, the eager one. The generous Maghavan is glorified among men with hymns, the heaven-strong king, the unfailing support of songs. He is the active hero, the noble, the wise, the hearer of invocation, the wide-protector. He is the wealth-giver, praised by men for his deeds, the bestower of strength, who, when praised in the assembly, grants the prize. Like the axle of a great chariot, O mighty one, your greatness has expanded across the two worlds. Indeed, O much-invoked Indra, your many aids have spread out like the branches of a tree. Your many powers are like the spreading branches of a tree, full of strength, moving like the streams of cows. Like the cords of calves, they are strong, unbroken, and well-bound, O generous one. One thing happens today, another tomorrow; Indra acts swiftly at every moment. May Mitra, Varuṇa, Pūṣan, and Aryaman here keep watch over our wealth. By you, the waters, like those from the mountain's summit, are set in motion with hymns, O Indra, by sacrifices. With these well-praised songs, they speed like horses to the contest, O singer-loved one. Neither years nor months wear him down; neither heaven nor earth diminishes Indra. Even as he grows old, his body increases; praised with hymns and songs, he is to be celebrated. He does not bow to the weak or the firm, nor does he yield to the enemy's praise. Even the immovable mountains tremble before Indra; in the deep places, he finds a path. With your deep and wide might, O foe-smasher, drive forward the prizes, O Soma-drinker. Stand upright with your protection, O undefeated one, at the dawn, at the breaking of night, for our safety. Come to our aid, be present for help; from here or there, O Indra, protect us from harm. Protect him at home, protect him in the wilderness from harm; may we, with a hundred powers, live bravely under your care.