May strength, nourishment, and abundance be distributed everywhere, as ghee and milk flow generously; and may all the gods, those worthy of our offerings, unite us with wealth and prosperity. If any beloved one is lost or far, let him be brought back from every quarter of the earth, returned to us by the gods’ means. May our minds be inspired toward what is auspicious. We praise Agni, the youngest and mightiest among the strong, the ruler and dear friend, difficult to restrain, whose law is honored by singers as children honor their mother. Women, with devotion, nurture him—the radiant one, marked by his splendor, shining forth adorned in his array. As the noble leader of peoples, Agni stretches to the ends of heaven, the sage flashing without cloud, illuminating all. May Agni accept the offerings of men, standing upright and mighty in sacrifice, measuring the sacred space as he comes forward. For he is the secure one, the very embodiment of the oblation, the attentive hearer, always leading the way; the gods have made Agni the possessor of riches. With desire for sacrifice, we seek Agni, the ancient and gracious one, called the son of the stone, the bringer of life. All men, whoever they are among us or whoever may come, who increase Agni with offerings—may they be blessed. Agni’s form is black, white, tawny, and dark; yet the bright, swift, and red glorious one—the creator has shaped him in golden form. Thus, Agni, may our praises, joined with hymns, come to you, child of strength, together with the immortal ones. May our voices bring you goodwill, and with it, all nourishment, strength, and perfect dwelling. With our praises, we choose you, Agni, as the Hotar for our sacrifice on the sacred grass, delighting in your bright flame. The self-born ones, adorned with horses, honor you; those who sprinkle offerings know you well. In you are established the laws, as with ladles pouring forth, you bear all glories, black and white forms, for our utterance and your delight. Whatever wealth you, Agni—immortal and powerful—think of, bring that to us for strength. For your delight, bring us wonders in sacrifice. Born of Atharvan, Agni knows all wisdoms; he became the messenger of Vivasvat, beloved and desired by Yama. You are invoked at the proper rituals, Agni, bestowing all treasures to the worshipper; as the lovely officiant, men have seated you in the sacrifice, your face shining with clarified butter, swiftest with eyes. With your bright flame, Agni, you spread widely and greatly, roaring and strengthening yourself. In your exhilaration, you place the seed among kin, desiring to be spoken of. Now, where is Indra heard today? In which people is he known? Is he spoken of like Mitra? Is he among the seers, or hidden, delighting in song? Here, let Indra be heard by us today—praised, the wielder of the bolt, eager for hymns. Like Mitra among the people, he has made for himself unequalled fame. Indra is lord of greatness and might, the awakener of heroic power, bearer of the bold thunderbolt, a father to his dear son. The swift horses of the wind are yoked for the god with the thunderbolt; they flow along the shining path, and we praise his journey. With these horses, O god, you carry forth by your own nature; with you, no mortal can compete as driver or knower. Those who come, eager for food, ask of you as if for a home; you come from afar, from heaven and earth, to mortals. So come to us, Indra, for our praise, for our exalted hymn; we entreat you for help, as when you struck down the human foe, Shushna. The lawless Dasyu, without rites or vows, hostile and inhuman—you, slayer of foes, strike down that Dasa, subdue him. Indra, hero among heroes, you and your supporters are exalted; your gifts are spread everywhere, as the lands bow before you. You urge men to slay Vritra, O heroic Indra, even when the wise and powerful are hidden among the people. Swiftly, may the generous come to you, O wielder of the bolt, when you, subduing Shushna, have destroyed all that was born with him. Let not your riches, O heroic Indra, be far from us; may we always be in your good favor. May those true, harmless gifts be ours, and let us know their strength, like cows. When the armless, footless ones grew strong with the powers of the wise, you, circling around, destroyed Shushna for all people. Drink, O heroic Indra, drink the Soma; be unharmed and wealthy, protector of those who praise you. Grant us great and splendid riches. Let us worship Indra, whose right hand wields the bolt, who rides the chariot drawn by bay steeds; his beard shakes upwards, he is moved by armies, and is generous with gifts. His bay steeds are known in the forest; Indra, the wealthy, generous, and slayer of Vritra, is present with gifts. The skillful, strong, and powerful one rules; even the name of the Dasa I drive away. When Indra, with his golden thunderbolt and chariot, with his two steeds, comes forth among the wise, then Maghavan, renowned from ancient times, lord of long-famed strength, stands ready for the prize. Then, Indra, with your companions, you, the bull, shake your tawny beard and descend to the pleasant dwelling at the pressing of sweet Soma, stirring like the wind shakes the forest. He who, with his voice, overcame those of discordant speech, who slew many thousands of foes—each of his heroic deeds we celebrate; like a father, he increased his might for protection.