Let me tell you of Indra, the unconquered lord of might, the universal protector, the greatest among the gods. For your sake, I sing his praise—Indra, the all-powerful, who stands as guardian over all. The hymns rise up to magnify him, the generous giver, honored by the two divine worlds and revered by the goddesses for his immense strength. For Indra, I prepare a seat of praise, spreading it wide like rivers whose waves surge forth, where all dwellers find their places apart. Mitra, ever fresh in discovery, revealed his skill; as he drank, he became the most generous among the gods, and with the sacred Taulā and Dhautari hymns, he extended his protection far and wide for his friends. On the path of truth, the wise one drank, seeking glory, and the gods shaped their minds for greatness. With words, they fashioned a radiant form, a vision for the shining one, the weaver of all. To us, may he bestow the most brilliant skill, driving away the ancient hostilities among men. With his powers, may he lengthen our lives and grant us wealth—may he remember us always. Indra, for you alone, O generous one, our giving has never faltered. O wielder of the tawny steeds, do not abandon us. Among mortals, none is known to be as giving as you; who, then, could ever call you reluctant to bestow gifts? O mighty bull, do not turn away from us in your thunder; do not let us lose your friendship, O radiant one. Indra, grant us your ancient and new favors among people; drive away our enemies and uplift those who sing your praise. Like thunder rolling from the clouds, Indra brings forth wealth—horses and cattle in abundance. You, giver from the heavens, O singer, let none who seeks your gifts be disappointed, for your generosity is boundless. O sacrificer and hero, bring forth the pressed offerings for Indra, for he is the lord of the sacrifice. He has grown strong through both ancient and new praises, through the songs of chanting sages. Knowing many forms in his exhilaration, Indra has slain his foes without resistance. Offer him the honeyed Soma, for the hero with the tuft, that he may drink and be pleased. Let Indra drink the pressed Soma, let him rejoice as he slays the foe with his thunderbolt. May he come to the sacrifice, even from afar, as the benefactor, protector of thoughts, and guardian of the singer. This vessel is prepared for Indra’s drinking—the beloved, immortal drink has been consumed. May it bring joy to the god and drive away hatred and enmity from us. Rejoicing in this, O hero, strike down your enemies; destroy the hostile and unfriendly, O bountiful one. With your force, attack those who oppose, O Indra, and utterly defeat them. O generous Indra, fight for us; grant us a safe and easy path. Defeat those who threaten our waters, offspring, and descendants; make us lords, Indra, and secure our rightful share. Your stallions, harnessed and powerful, your chariots with strong reins, are ready. Let them bring you, O thunder-bearer, to us who praise you, for our delight. Your mighty ones have come to your vessel, O bull, delighting in the butter and honey. Indra, for you, the bulls bring the pressed Soma, for the mighty one to drink. You are the bull of heaven, the bull of earth, the bull of rivers, the bull of women. For the mighty one, the Soma swells—the sweet juice, fit for the best to drink. This god, born in strength, with Indra as his ally, has overcome the demon. He has taken up the weapons of his father; the Soma has burned away the sorcery of the evil one. This one has made the dawns into good wives; he has placed light within the sun. In the three regions of heaven, in the shining places, he has found the hidden nectar. He has supported both heaven and earth, and yoked the seven-rayed chariot. By his skill, he has set the ripe Soma among the cows and established the tenfold fountain. It is he who led Turvasha and Yadu from afar with wise guidance—may Indra, our youthful friend, be with us. Even for the unskilled, he provides sustenance; even for the swift horse, Indra is the conqueror, granting the desired wealth. Great is his guidance, and his blessings are many; his aids never diminish. Friends, sing forth to the bearer of prayer, raise your voices, for he is our great support. You alone, O slayer of Vṛtra, are the helper of one and of two; may we become as you are. You drive away the hostile, you bring down those who speak against the hymn; among men, you are famed as mighty among heroes. With my words, I call the friend, the singer, the bearer of prayer, as one calls a cow to be milked. Into his hands all treasures are placed without division—the hero who conquers in battle. Even the firm strongholds of peoples, O lord of might, you shatter, O stone-wielder; bring down the stubborn tricks of foes. You, O true one, drinker of Soma, Indra, lord of prizes, we, desiring fame, have called. Whoever, whether in the past you aided or now in the quest for wealth, is worthy of offering—hear his call. With prayers and with swift horses, O Indra, bring us glory; with you, may we win the wealth we seek. You have become, O heroic, song-loving Indra, great in the contest for riches, the one to be invoked in every struggle. That aid of yours, O foe-slayer, which is always ready—by that, set our chariot in motion. With that chariot, most skilled in battle, attacking with ours, O victorious one, you win the wealth we desire. Praise him alone, the most discerning among peoples, the lord born with mighty resolve. He who has been a good friend to the praisers, bringing help—may you, Indra, show us mercy. Take up the thunderbolt in your hands, O wielder of the thunderbolt, to slay the demon; be most powerful against the foes. The ancient companion of riches, the inspirer of praise, the best bearer of prayer—I call upon him now.