Let us recount the glory of Indra, the much-invoked, much-glorified lord, the sole recipient of praise from countless sacrifices. Like a mighty chariot yoked for great power, Indra alone is worthy of our hymns. Our words and songs do not diminish him; instead, they increase his greatness. Whether a hundred or a thousand singers raise their voices to the song-loving one, all praise belongs to Indra. For Indra, I bring forth the Soma with a shining hymn, as one measures out the months in devotion, like a man seeking water in the desert when offerings and sacrifices grow strong together. For mighty Indra, I have spoken this praise from the depths of my thoughts, composing a hymn for him, the great slayer of obstacles, protector of all life, and ever-growing one. O bounteous Indra, when will you grant us enduring wealth—chariots, thousandfold prosperity in answer to our hymn? When will our praise bear fruit through your riches, and when will you bestow thoughts rich in prizes? When, Indra, will you, among men and heroes, bring victory? On the threefold earth, may you win glory among the cows; grant us shining fame and light. Indra, when will you perform the all-encompassing act of strength for your worshipper? When will you accept our thoughts and helpers, and come to our offerings rich in cows? Bestow upon your worshippers wealth rich in cows, horses, and glory, O Indra, and place nourishing treasures with the Bharadvājas; let the shining, ever-yielding cow flourish among them. May the mighty one, even when opposed, not abandon us when you, heroic Indra, have readied your weapon; do not leave the Angirases without the milk of the bright-yielding cow. Inspired one, win with prayer. Your exhilarations, Indra, are all-creating, your riches encompass all the earth. You are the universal distributor of prizes, upholding your divine power among the gods. All people seek your strength and take hold of your might for heroism; in the house of the weaver and for the swift, they choose wisdom, even for the slaying of Vṛtra. To Indra, the united helpers bring manly deeds and heroic powers; like rivers flowing into the ocean, the forceful hymns stream toward him, whose expanse is vast. Indra, you send forth the desire for wealth to the singer, lord of radiant treasure; you have become the unrivaled master of peoples, the sole king of all the world. Listen, Indra, as heaven and earth listen to the noble one; may you act with your power for us as you have done before, wise in every age. Let your harnessed bays bring you here, Indra, chosen by all; even the poor call upon you, the bringer of light—we would share your feast today. The bays have come to the vessel, the deeds are accomplished, they have become pure and straight; may Indra, ancient and strong, drink of this Soma, king of exhilaration. The well-yoked horses, eager for strength, approach Indra, drawing well-made chariots; let the straight ones carry the fame, and may the immortal one of the wind not be left behind. Indra, most generous, directs the right hand of the bountiful; with your bolt, you drive away distress and grant riches to the generous. Indra is the giver of enduring strength; may he, great in might, be increased by our songs. May Indra, slayer of Vṛtra, be victorious—thus the generous one fills the eager. He has set forth, and the most brilliant dawns have arisen; Indra has brought great and glorious praise. The bountiful one seeks wise intention, the divine path, and the gift of the generous man. From afar, the ears of him who dwells resound to Indra’s thunderous voice, proclaiming aloud. This invocation has turned toward Indra; the Madra woman sings her hymn to him. With highest thought, we approach ageless Indra with hymns, sacred utterances and songs placed in him, and great praise grows upon Indra. The sacrifice increases him, as do Soma, chants, hymns, and my words. The dawns, the paths of night, the months, years, and heavens all increase Indra. Thus, I praise the one born for strength, exalted for generosity and fame. O mighty, fierce one, protector and sage, let us call upon you now in battles against the foe. Of the delightful poet, the heavenly fire, the sage, the mind, the speech, and honeyed words—grant us the favor of that divine companion, O youthful one, for the singer who seeks the cows. Indra, shining, circles the mountain and the dawns, with thoughts aligned to truth and yoked to righteousness. He breaks the rugged ridge, the summit of the vale; Indra attacks the Panis with words. He shines, illuminating nights and days, seasons and times. They have placed this sign for the days; born pure, he has fashioned the dawns. He brightens with light, fills the ancient ones with truth, and moves with horses yoked to righteousness, knowing the sun; the leaders travel at the navel. Now, the singer praises you, ancient king; enrich the former treasures for the giver of wealth. Remove the herbs, forests, cows, horses, and men—grant them for our delight. Indra, drink the Soma pressed for you, for delight; let your steeds be released for companionship. Come, sing, gather, sit with the hosts; come to the sacrifice, accept the praise and vigor. Drink of this, Indra, for which you were born, for delight and power; you have drunk, O wide-seeing one. To you, the cows, men, waters, and mountain have brought Soma for drinking, for you alone. When the fire is kindled and the Soma pressed, let your best horses bring you here, Indra. With devoted mind, I call you; come for our great welfare and blessing. Come with constant longing, with great mind, to drink the Soma. Listen to our hymns, then let the sacrifice grant vigor to your body. Wherever you are, Indra—in the heavenly realm, in righteousness, or in your own abode—wherever you dwell, come to our sacrifice with your companions; drink, O singer, with the Maruts. Without hindrance, come to the sacrifice, for you the Soma juices are purified. Like cows in your own home, come, Indra, be the foremost among those worthy of sacrifice. With that which is made for you by Kakutstha, with that which is best, with which you always drink the wave of honey—drink with it; the priest has placed it before you. Let your thunderbolt, Indra, be ready for the cows. This drop, the bull of all forms, Soma, has been prepared for mighty Indra. Drink this, O golden one, steadfast and fierce, whose food you desire in the highest heaven. The Soma is pressed for your delight, Indra; it is better for the wise in battle. Come, Titirva, approach the sacrifice; with it, fill all the powerful ones. We call upon you, Indra, come near; let this Soma be strength for your body. O hundred-powered one, rejoice in the pressings; may you bring us victory in battles and among the peoples. Bring to him who desires to drink, who knows all things, everything, for his approach and journey; for the man who comes from afar, for the one who is eager. Thus, with reverence and longing, the hymns and sacrifices rise to Indra, the mighty, the protector, the generous, the king of gods. All praise, all gifts, all prayers are for him, whose strength and wisdom pervade the world, whose blessings sustain all life.