Listen, as the ancient hymns unfold their vivid tapestry of images and praise. Once, the hare, with cleverness and skill, whetted the razor, turning it back upon itself. With his paw, he struck the stone from afar, splitting it. Even the mighty, when wounded, are not beyond reach; I pierce them with holes, just as a calf, with gentle tongue, licks the strong bull. So too, the eagle sharpened his claw, biding his time, restrained like a lion waiting at the track. The buffalo, though held back, yearns to run free; and it is the iguana who drags away what others have left behind. From such as these, the iguana carries away his prize—the ones who, opposing the sacred word, feed only for themselves. Even the calves, freed from the ox, bite and grow strong, their bodies gaining strength by their own nature. Some have found shelter beneath the leafy branches of the shami tree, becoming well-shaded; others have adorned themselves with the sacred soma hymns. Speaking with voices like men, they come to us with strength. In heaven, O hero, your fame and name are firmly established. Like a tree set down in the forest, so has your praise, O Indra, grown—bright and eager. You are 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 in the dance with the most valiant among men. We follow Trishoka, who brought a hundred men, whose chariot, with Kutsa, was victorious. What exhilaration of yours, O Indra, is most delightful? Fierce one, hasten to our songs, even from afar. Which helper, drawing near, may my thought bring, so that I may win your highest favor, abundant with food? What glory do you bestow upon men, O Indra, and by what wisdom do you act? Who comes to you? Like Mitra, true in service, you are widely praised, when our thoughts are united in the sharing of food. Send forth the sun, like one seeking the farthest goal, for those who, like children, pursue his desire. And those many songs of yours, O Indra, your men—born of your strength—answer with gifts of food. For your mother, for you, for Sumitra, may ancient heaven with its might and earth with her wisdom be present. For your delight, may the clarified offerings and sweet draughts be ready for you to drink. To Indra, the full measure of the sweet drink is poured, for he is truly bounteous. He has grown in greatness, filling the wide expanse of earth, through his noble deeds and heroic powers. Indra scatters the hosts of battle with his own strength; many strive for his friendship. In the struggles, stand firm like a chariot, which you, O Indra, drive onward with your gracious favor. Let the hymn go forth to the gods, offered swiftly as the mind’s own promptings. You, who possess the great law of Mitra and Varuna, grant us wide and splendid praise. O priests, be ready with your offerings; come with reverence and eager hearts. The tawny, beautiful-winged one watches over you—let your strong hands pour out the wave of the drink. Priests, go to the waters, to the ocean; worship with offerings the Son of the Waters. He will give you a pure, foaming wave; for him, press the sweet Soma, rich in honey. He who, though without fuel, shines among the waters—him, the inspired invoke at sacrifices. O Son of the Waters, grant us the honeyed streams by which Indra grew in strength. By these waters Soma rejoices and exults, like a youth with 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; when summoned, they come eagerly. Together, they unite in mind and purpose—priests and goddesses of wisdom and waters. He who made a path for you from the closed places, releasing 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 you rivers, the fountain of honey. Waters, rich in ghee, worthy of praise in sacrifice, listen to my call. That exhilarating, Indra-drinking wave, O rivers, set in motion, which both worlds send forth—flowing with intoxication, born of the sky, circling 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; they have sat down at the sacrifice, desiring to serve the gods. O priests, press Soma for Indra; your god-pleasing sacrifice has succeeded. May the blessing of the gods approach us, the worshipful, with all their might for our protection. With them, may we become good friends, overcoming all misfortunes. Let not a mortal covet wealth by unrighteous means; let him seek it through the path of truth, with reverence. Let him speak with his own resolve, and grasp superior wisdom with his mind. The 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, the wise, and have become as if immortal. He is ever youthful, master of his household, and self-controlled, whom the god Savitar has begotten. May Bhaga or Aryaman not withhold cows from him; may he be covered with beauty, and may it be so. May this earth become as abundant as the dawns, when the powerful gather with strength. Seeking the praise of this singer, may the swift prizes come to us. His favor has spread forth, the ancient, vast cow. In the home of this lord, the companions, bearing together, move in the same sustenance. What was that forest, and who was that tree, from which heaven and earth were fashioned? They stand firm, undecaying, with mighty supports; many days and dawns have grown old. There is nothing beyond this, nothing greater; the bull upholds heaven and earth. The self-sustaining ones make a skin, a filter, and the bright ones carry the sun as if it were a horse. Like a bull, he does not tire of the earth; like wind, he moves freely through space. Where Mitra and Varuna are worshipped, and Agni, like a fire in the forest, has not released his heat. When the charioteer swiftly drives the team, he makes the restless steady, protecting his own. When the son was born before the parents, the cow lowed gently when the calves were questioned. Some say Kanva is the son of a human, and Shyava, the victorious, has gained wealth. The bright ones pour forth for the dark one; in this, no one has surpassed us. Let the eager ones come forth, the wise, bearing their gifts, delighting in the best. O Indra, may you be pleased with both, when you have tasted the soma drink. O Indra, you travel through the shining realms of heaven and the earthly spaces, much-praised one. Those who bear you at the sacrifices—may they, strong in voice, please you and drive away the hostile. Thus flows the sacred story, woven from the hymns of old, where creatures, gods, and waters each play their part in the great order. Indra is honored and the blessings of the waters are invoked, that truth, abundance, and wisdom may flourish among those who seek with reverence and unite in praise.