Among those who are wise, the difference between truth and falsehood stands clear as day. When two words contend—one true, one false—Soma, the sacred elixir, protects the true and powerful word, while the false is destroyed. Soma never harms the innocent, nor the warrior who upholds justice; instead, he lays low the demons and liars, who fall defeated beneath Indra’s mighty hand. Even if one were a false god or had been of no use, the gods are asked: “O Agni, knower of all births, what do you hold against us? Let those who speak deceit fall into ruin.” If, on this day, I have been a sorcerer, or have wronged another, let the true wrongdoer be parted from his companions, separated tenfold from his men—especially whoever falsely accuses me of sorcery. Whoever calls me a sorcerer, or claims purity while harboring evil, may Indra strike him down with a mighty blow, casting him to the lowest place among all creatures. As for the one who creeps by night like a hyena, hiding in treachery, let her be cast into endless pits, struck by stones as punishment for her demonhood. Rise up, O Maruts! Scatter our foes, seize and crush the demons—those who, like birds, fly by night, or those who, as enemies, intrude upon the sacrifice. Indra, O generous one, roll down the sharpened stone of heaven, prepared by Soma; from all directions—east, west, above, below—strike the demons with the mountain. These very demons, with jaws like dogs, attack and seek to assail Indra, eager to harm the blameless. O Shakra, sharpen your weapon against the slanderers; now, release your thunderbolt against the sorcerers. Indra became the destroyer of the sorcerers for Parashara, driving away those who disturb the sacrificial offering. Shakra struck down the demons as an axe fells a forest, as a vessel splits apart—so he goes against the fiends. Strike down the owl-demon, the screech-owl demon, the dog-jawed demon, and the cuckoo-demon; the eagle-demon and the vulture-demon as well—destroy them utterly, O Indra, and protect us. Let neither demon nor sorcerer, nor the evil pair, nor the worm-like one overpower us. May the earth protect us from harm below, and the midspace and sky shield us from above. Indra, strike down the male sorcerer and the deceitful woman who brings harm. Let the neck-twisting, root-devouring demons perish; may they not see you when the sun rises. Look forth, O Indra and Soma, look all around and be awake! Hurl destruction upon the demons, the thunderbolt upon the sorcerers. O friends, let us speak of nothing else—do not falter. Praise only Indra, the mighty one, during the pressing of Soma; again and again, let us sing hymns. Indra is like a powerful, unrestrained bull, enduring like a cow among the people; he removes hatred, unites, conquers both sides, and is the greatest of all. Though people may call upon you in many ways for help, O Indra, let our prayer reach you and bring you increase today. The wise and generous one surpasses all men; approach us in your many forms and bring us the closest prize. Not even for a great price, not for a thousand or ten thousand, nor for hundreds of gifts, would I give you away, O stone-splitter, wielder of the bolt. You are generous, Indra, to me, my father, my brother who partook, and you have sheltered my mother as well, for the sake of wealth and favor. Where are you, where do you dwell? Your mind is in many places. You have rushed forth, O fighter, breaker of forts; you have gone forth, O singer, with the Gayatri. Sing the Gayatri for him, praise the generous one, the breaker of forts, by whom the Kanva’s seat was approached, by whom, armed with the bolt, the cities were shattered. Come to us with your ten-yoked, hundred-yoked, and thousand-yoked steeds—those mighty, swift horses—praised by us. Today I call upon you, O Indra, as one calls upon a cow with abundant milk, for the Gayatra meter and the flowing Soma. I seek you, the cow of good milk, for nourishment and overflowing bounty. When the demon, the sun, Etaśa, or the crooked one, with the leaf of the wind, carried away Kutsa, son of Arjuna, Indra, the hundred-powered, rescued the Gandharva from distress. He who, even without help, protected the ancient ones from harm at their joints—he, the generous one, lord of many, will again make the scattered whole. O Indra, let us not become like those cast aside, nor like those without shelter; may we not be as forests abandoned, or as mornings without hope. Here, we have not found want or destruction, O Slayer of Vṛtra; with your great bounty, mighty one, may we gladden you again with our praise. If my praise is worthy, O Indra, let the swift streams, having crossed the filter, bring you joy, O increaser of strength. Come today, O friend, to this assembly; let the praise of the generous reach you. For you, I prepare this excellent hymn. The Soma has been pressed for you with stones; let it flow in the waters. Like a garment washed clean, men have purified it, straining it from the vessels. Whether from the earth or the great shining heaven, by this, increase yourself in body and in my song; fill, O skillful one, what is born of me. Press out for Indra the most exhilarating, choice Soma; let Shakra drink it with all his wisdom, as a racer urged on to victory. May I never weary you with my song, always begging for Soma; like a restless beast at the sacrifice, who would ask the lord for what is already his? Driven by strong exhilaration, with mighty power, Indra surpasses all, pouring forth the intoxicating draught; in his intoxication, he gives to us. The god grants many desirable things to the mortal who serves; to the one who pours and praises, he bestows renown, praised by all. Come, Indra, delight in this splendid bounty; like a lake swelling with drink, be filled to the brim with these Somas. To you, a thousand and a hundred yoked to the golden chariot, the tawny-maned steeds, yoked by prayer—may they bring you, O Indra, for the drinking of Soma. Let the two bay steeds with peacock-like tails and dappled backs bring you on the golden chariot for the sweet, exhilarating Soma. Drink of this pressed Soma, O lover of song, as the foremost drinker; this well-prepared, flowing draught is offered to you, delightful for your exhilaration.