In the ancient times, in the measure set by the gods, the first beings took their places, while those who cut and shaped the world stood above them. Among these, three powers heated the earth and the marshes, and two carried away the refuse in their mouths, each fulfilling their appointed task. Amid these mysteries, you are urged to recognize the true giver of life—know him well and do not shrink from him in the heat of battle. It is he who reveals the shining sun and hides the darkness; though manifest, he remains bound to those still caught in the cycle of bondage. With the departure of every other enemy, only the father-in-law remains, lingering behind. Let him eat and drink of soma, and when he is satisfied, may he peacefully return to his home. There stands the roaring bull, sharp-horned, braving the rain as he traces the pathways of the earth. In every gathering, the wish arises to protect the one who fills us with the invigorating soma. With sacred stones, the exhilarating soma is pressed for Indra, who drinks deeply of its essence. The strong bulls prepare food for him, and he partakes when called with the ladle, generous and bountiful. Let it be known, O singer, that the rivers carry away the curse that flows against their current. Just as wolves retreat from the lion, fish from the crocodile, and jackals from the boar, so too do the weak withdraw from the mighty, scorched by their power. How, then, have I come to know this matured wisdom of Gritsa, the inspired one? You, who possess knowledge, tell us in due season, O generous one, what portion we should reserve for you. By such acts, my strength is increased—even by those who dwell high in the vast sky. I lay down thousands together, for my begetter has made me unconquered. Thus have the gods made me mighty, O Indra—strong in deed and ever manly. I slew Vritra with the thunderbolt, rejoicing, and with my power I opened the pen for the worshipper. The gods came bearing axes, cutting through the forest, weapons in hand. They placed the steadfast one within their hearts, and following the wedge, they kindled its fire. The hare, sharpening the razor, turned it back and split the stone from afar with his paw. Even the great one, when wounded, I pierce with holes, just as a calf licks the bull. The eagle, too, sharpened his claw, restrained like a lion upon the track. Even the buffalo, though held back, yearns to run, and thus the iguana drags away what it desires. From these, the iguana drags its prize—those who, opposing the sacred word, feed on what is given. Even the calves, once freed from the ox, bite and grow strong of themselves. Some, sheltered by the branches of the shami tree, find cool shade; others adorn themselves with hymns to soma. Speaking as men, they come to us with strength, and in heaven, O hero, your fame and name are established. Like a tree set in the forest, your praise, bright and eager, grows for whoever is placed there. For such a one, Indra is the priest among men—the noble, the most manly, the lord of the night. May we reach the farthest dawn for you; may we join the dance of the most manly among men. We follow Trishoka, bringing a hundred men, whose chariot, with Kutsa, triumphed. What exhilaration of yours, O Indra, is most delightful? Fierce one, hasten to our songs from afar. Which helper, coming near, may my thought summon, so that I might win your highest favor with our offerings? What glory, O Indra, do you grant to men, and by what wisdom do you act, who comes to you? Like Mitra, true in service, you are widely praised when our minds unite in the sharing of food. Send forth the sun, as one seeking the farthest goal, for those who, like offspring, pursue his desire. And your many songs, O Indra, are answered by men born of your strength, who share their food. For your mother, for you, for Sumitra, may the ancient heaven and the wise earth be present, O Indra. For your delight, let clarified offerings and sweet draughts be ready for you to drink. To Indra, the full measure of the sweet drink has been poured, for he is truly generous. He has grown in greatness across the wide earth through his noble deeds and heroic might. Indra scatters the hosts of battle by his own strength; many seek his friendship. In battle, stand firm as a chariot, driven onward by his gracious favor. Let the hymn go forth to the gods, swift as thought, an offering to the divine. May you, who uphold the great law of Mitra and Varuna, grant us wide and splendid praise. O priests, prepare your offerings and approach with reverence and eager hearts. The tawny, beautiful-winged one watches over you; with strong hands, pour out the wave of the drink. Go, O priests, to the waters, to the ocean, and worship with offerings the Son of the Waters. He will give you a pure, foaming wave; for him, press the sweet, honey-rich soma. He who, though without fuel, shines among the waters is invoked at sacrifices by the inspired. O Son of the Waters, grant us the honeyed streams by which Indra’s strength increased. By these streams, Soma rejoices and exults, like a youth among lovely maidens. O priest, go to the waters that they may purify the soma you pour with the sacred herbs. Here the young maidens bow down, coming eagerly when summoned. Together, they unite in mind and purpose—O priests and goddesses of wisdom and waters. He who made a path for you from closed places, who released you from the great curse—offer to that Indra the honeyed wave, the divine exhilarating drink, O waters. Pour for him the honeyed wave, the embryo of the rivers, the fountain of honey. Waters, rich in ghee and worthy of praise in sacrifice, listen to my call. That exhilarating, Indra-drinking wave, O rivers, set in motion by both worlds—flowing with intoxication, born of the sky, moving around the source, weaving the thread. Ever-flowing, now divided in two streams, moving like cattle to the stall—O rivers, mothers of the sage, wives of the world, praise them, O mighty one, who share the same seat. Pour for us the sacrifice worthy of the gods; pour the prayer for the gaining of wealth. In union with truth, be free from error; be ready to listen to us, O waters. O shining waters, you truly possess wealth; bear good counsel and immortality. You are the wives of the lord of prosperity; Sarasvati, grant us that glory which is praised. When the waters, bearing ghee, milk, and honey, have come forth, visible and flowing—joining with the priests in mind, they bring the pressed soma to Indra. Now the shining, life-giving waters have come; O priests, seat them, O friends. Place the soma offerings on the sacred grass, united with the Son of the Waters. The eager waters have come to this sacred grass, sitting at the sacrifice, desiring to serve the gods. O priests, press soma for Indra; your god-pleasing sacrifice has succeeded. May the blessings of the gods approach us, the worshipful, with all their might for our protection. With them, may we become good friends, overcoming all misfortune. Let not a mortal covet wealth by unrighteous means; let him seek it through the path of truth, with reverence. Let him speak with resolve and grasp higher wisdom with his mind. Inspired thought has been set forth; the hymns flow like streams to the sacred place, seeking the gracious one. We have approached the favor of the generous and wise, and have become as if immortal in their presence.