For the sake of mighty Indra, the radiant dawns have crossed the darkness of night, singing in his praise. Even the seven nurturing rivers, swift and steadfast, stand firm to aid this heroic god. Such is Indra’s power that, pierced through with his sharp weapon, the peaks of the mountains—three times seven—were split asunder; no god nor mortal could withstand the deeds of this mighty bull. Indra’s thunderbolt is forged of iron, unyielding, and the greatest strength resides in his arms. His firm resolves are set in his mind, ever eager for praise and quick to answer the call of his devotees. Among all beings worthy of worship, Indra stands supreme; among those unshaken, he is the great shaker; among the strong, he is the sign; among peoples, he is the bull. When Indra, exhilarated, takes up his thunderbolt and goes forth to battle, the mountains yield before him, the cows are released, and the prayers of mortals reach his ears. Let us therefore praise him who has created all beings, both lesser and greater. With Indra, may we win Mitra’s friendship through our songs; with reverence, may we approach this bull among gods. Long ago, all the gods, seeking help against the oppressive breath of Vṛtra, chose Indra as their friend and champion. With the Maruts, O Indra, may your friendship be with us, so that we too may triumph in all our battles. Sixty-three Maruts, growing strong and noble like herds of cattle at dawn, attend upon you. Grant us our share, make us mighty, and accept this offering we lay before you. Who among the hosts, even those with sharp weapons, could withstand your thunderbolt, Indra? You scattered the weaponless demons and the ungodly with your whirling wheel, O mighty one. Let us send forth a splendid hymn for you—the great, fierce, and powerful one, the bringer of auspicious wealth. For you, the knower of song, we offer many praises—may you, perhaps, take notice. For the mighty bearer of hymns, let our thoughts flow like a river to its farthest shore. With insight, let us touch the body of the well-heard, the most pleasing one—may you, perhaps, take notice. Know, O singer, what delights Indra: praise him with a beautiful hymn, call upon him with reverence, adorn the invincible one with your voice—may he, perhaps, take notice. Once, a black drop, adorned with ten thousand, descended into the shining Aṃśumatī river. Indra, with his power, brought it back, casting aside the sticky ones with his strength. I saw the drop moving apart in the gathering place by the banks of the Aṃśumatī, like a dark cloud in the sky. I stood watching, praying that you, O strong ones, may prevail in battle. Then, the drop, resting in the lap of Aṃśumatī, held its shining form. The godless hosts approached, but Indra, yoked with Bṛhaspati, overcame them all. From birth, Indra became the enemy of those who have no enemies; he discovered the hidden heavens and earth, and from the abundant worlds, he brought forth battle. With unmatched strength, Indra struck down foes with his thunderbolt, emboldened by his weapon. He destroyed Śuṣṇa with his arms and, by his might, found the cows. Truly, as the bull among peoples, he became the slayer of foes, the thundercloud among adversaries; he released the rivers, held back the obstructors, and conquered the wives of the Dāsas. Indra, the wise one, roars in the pressings; his wrath is unmatched, his splendor like a serpent’s. He alone, the doer of heroic deeds, is called the slayer of Vṛtra by all. We invoke that Vṛtra-slaying Indra, supporter of people, with excellent praise, as one worthy of offerings. May that generous Maghavan be our protector, our advocate, and the giver of strength and renown. That Vṛtra-slaying Indra, rich in gifts, newly born, became worthy of offerings; performing many heroic deeds, like Soma when pressed, he is the offering for his friends. O Indra, bring us that shining strength from the Asuras; O generous one, increase the reward for the singer and for those who spread the sacred grass. To whom you have given the horse, the cow, the undiminishing share—grant that to the sacrificer who presses Soma and gives offerings; do not let it go to the stingy. O Indra, of true resolve, who walks the path of truth, with your own powers you have secured nourishing wealth. Grant us that prosperity. Whatever you accomplish, O Vṛtra-slayer, whether far or near, for this reason the singer, with bright hymns and flowing hair, calls you to the Soma pressing. Wherever you are—in the shining realm of heaven, on the summit of the ocean, in the earthly abode, or in the midspace—come here, O mightiest Vṛtra-slayer. O Soma-drinker, lord of might, delight in us with your bounty, with truthfulness, with abundant wealth, at the pressings of Soma. Do not turn away from us, O Indra; be our companion at the feast. You are our helper, you are our kin; do not turn away from us. Sit with us, O Indra, at this Soma pressing, to drink the sweet offering; grant the worshipper new greatness, O generous one—be with us, Indra, at this Soma pressing. Neither gods nor mortals have equaled you, O stone-armed one; by your might, you surpass all beings that have come into being—none of the gods have matched you. All the hosts of men have fashioned Indra, the victorious, to be their king—most excellent in resolve, best in gifts, mighty, most powerful, strong and energetic. The singers have raised their voices together for Indra to drink Soma; when he grows strong as lord of light, steadfast in vow, he comes with his powers. The spokes bow with sight, the inspired ones raise their voices; may your praisers, free from harm and with good intentions, approach your ears with their songs, O mighty one. I call upon that Indra, the generous, the mighty, who upholds all powers, who cannot be restrained; most great with hymns, worthy of sacrifice—may the wielder of the bolt make all our paths easy. You, Indra, have destroyed ancient fortresses with your might, O most powerful, O Shakra, for their ruin; by you, O bolt-wielder, all the worlds tremble—heaven and earth shake in fear. May that truth, O Indra, O heroic one, protect us—like water, O bolt-wielder, drive away all harm. When, O Indra, will you grant us wealth, O king, of all-encompassing, desirable abundance? Let us sing a chant for Indra—the wise, the great, vast in greatness, who acts according to law, who sees clearly, and is ever worthy of praise. Indra, you are all-conquering; you made the sun shine; you are the maker of all, god of all, you are great. Shining with light, go to the radiant realm of heaven; O Indra, the gods have chosen you for friendship. Indra, may our cherished desire reach you, O Satrājit, unconcealed, broad as a mountain on every side, lord of heaven.