Among the celestial hosts, the Maruts are invoked, and Indra, difficult to comprehend, shines among them all by his own nature. Like a swift runner moving across the sky, Indra, the Pākasthāma and Kaurayāṇa, radiates his brilliance. The red-hued Pākasthāma, well-yoked and broad-flanked, stands undeceived and ever-awake, a source of strength and generosity. By Indra’s power, ten others harness the yoke and carry the sacred fires; they move like birds returning to their nests. From the father comes the soul, the body is a garment, and strength is granted as an ointment. The fourth, the red Pākasthāma, is declared as the generous giver. Whenever Indra is invoked by men—whether in the east, west, north, or south—his renown as a helper spreads among many peoples. He is a champion for Turvasha. Indra delights in the homes of Ruma, Rushama, Shyavaka, and Kripa, joining them in joy. The Kanvas invite him with hymns and praises, longing for his presence. As a thirsty bull comes to water, not hostile but eager, so Indra is called to join the fathers and grandfathers, to drink with the Kanvas and delight in the pressed Soma. Let the exhilarating drops gladden him, for the generous one who presses Soma, whose best draught brings Indra strength and might. Indra, with force, creates strength and shatters anger. All warriors who oppose him are subdued, felled like trees. He is joined by thousands, ever youthful, bringing praise and making his son foremost in manliness, winning gifts through reverence. Let there be no fear or weariness in Indra’s fierce friendship. May his great deeds be seen, those performed for Turvasha and Yadu. The bull rushes forward, swelling his flank, his generosity unwavering. The cows, rich with honey and abundance, come forth—so let the flow continue, and let Indra drink. Indra’s friend is one with horses, chariots, fine form, and cattle, always sharing in strength and shining in the assembly, ever youthful. Like a thirsty wild beast, Indra is called to the fresh draught, to drink Soma and rejoice day by day, taking up the strongest might. “O Adhvaryu, make the Soma flow,” the priests call, for Indra thirsts. The two strong steeds are yoked, and the slayer of Vṛtra has arrived. Even the worshipper feels great where Indra is satisfied with Soma, his fitting food, well mixed and ready. The Adhvaryus press Soma for Indra, who stands on the chariot. The stones resound on the pressing stone, pouring forth the offering for the generous ritual. The two strong, swift steeds bring Indra quickly; the seven ritual teams, adorned for sacrifice, carry him to the pressing ground. The Kanvas choose Pūṣan, the much-giving, for companionship. They call to Shakra, much-invoked, asking for wisdom and release for wealth. “Sharpen us, as one sharpens a razor,” they pray, “grant us wealth, and let us know the shining riches you bestow upon mortals.” They seek Pūṣan’s favor and praise, avoiding enmity and offering hymns. The cows, ever marked and immortal, have perhaps gone to pasture. Pūṣan is called to protect and be gracious, mighty in granting strength. Abundant wealth is sought—a hundred horses among the gifts of the swift king, the fortunate one. Among the Turvashas, may favor be found in his bounties. With the thoughts and praises of the Kanva, sixty thousand herds of cattle are driven out, released by the seer. Even the trees cannot withstand this onrush—they break apart, and the cows and horses are divided by power. From afar, the red-hued one, shining with moisture, spreads his radiance and upholds all things. Like men with minds yoked to their broad-powered chariot, the wondrous Ashvins accompany Ushas, the dawn. To the Ashvins, bestowers of wealth in horses, hymns are sent forth, as a messenger brings speech. Much beloved for aid, gracious and possessing much wealth, the Kanvas praise the Ashvins. Mighty winners of wealth, bringers of glory, lords of beauty, the Ashvins are invited to the house of the worshipper. For the generous one who worships well, the Ashvins bestow good wisdom and guidance, pouring streams of milk with ghee. Swiftly, they come to the hymn with their falcons and rapid steeds, arriving with their horses. The Ashvins traverse the three distant shining realms of heaven, passing through all regions. They are called to grant abundant wealth with cattle and prosperity, opening wide the path for the journey. To the Kanvas, the Ashvins bring wealth rich in cattle, strong men, splendid chariots, and abundance with horses. Ever-growing, lords of beauty, wondrous ones with golden wheels, they drink the honeyed Soma. To the generous and worshipful, the Ashvins bring wide protection, delighting in praise. To the prayers of the people, they come near, hastening and not turning aside. Of the sweet exhilaration, the Ashvins drink, lords of the chariot, enjoying the honeyed gift. They are asked to bring wealth, a hundredfold and a thousandfold, abundant and supporting all people. Thus, through hymns and invocations, the gods—Indra, Pūṣan, and the Ashvins—are praised for their strength, generosity, guidance, and blessings, upholding the world and granting prosperity to their devotees.