O Indra, lord of riches, you are the mighty holder of great wealth and prosperity. With generous heart and the praises of our songs, we call upon you, offering the pressed Soma, that sacred essence so dear to the gods. Soma, you are the supporter of the sacrifice, most delightful and powerful among all offerings. Flow forth now, bringing joy and abundance to our gathering. Pressed and purified, you are exhilarating and inspiring, Soma—the victorious drop, ever protected, triumphant in all contests. Resounding with strength, well-pressed by the stones, you surge forth, Soma, radiant in your might. Flow for the pleasure of the gods, with your powerful streams; enter the vessel, sweet Soma, and find your seat among us. Your shining drops have swelled for Indra’s delight, and the gods have drunk you to gain immortality. Come to us, purified Soma drops, and bring us wealth. Let the rain-filled heavens and the flowing, light-giving waters draw near in your presence. Around that tawny, desirable steed—the Soma—they purify you with the filter, and you, together with all the gods, surge forward in exhilaration. Twice five waves, self-glorious and friendly, pressed by the stone, pour out the beloved Soma, so desired by Indra. For Indra, the mighty slayer of Vṛtra, for the hero who sits in the sacred seat, Soma, you are poured out for drinking. Flow for us, Soma, for skill and for wealth, like a yoked horse who wins the prize. The pressers purify you, Soma, for exhilaration and for great glory. They cleanse the newborn child, that tawny one, in the purifier—Soma, the sacred drop, destined for the gods. At dawn, the gods approach this newly born, swift, and adorned Soma, pressed with cows, shining and swift. May our songs, like cows running to their calf, reach the one who delights Indra’s heart. Flow for us, Soma, for blessing and for the cow; pour forth nourishing food and swell the ocean of our praise. Those who kindle Agni, who lay out the sacred grass with care, for whom Indra is ever a youthful friend, are blessed. Great is their kindling, abundant their praise, wide their glory—these are the ones for whom Indra is a youthful companion. Unconquered in battle, chosen by warriors, heroic and strong, for these also Indra is a youthful friend. He alone, Indra the lord, bestows wealth on the mortal who serves him, for he is truly irresistible. Whoever invokes you, O Indra, with many offerings, to him your fierce might belongs. When, O Indra, will you strike down the lawless, as one crushes a clod with the foot? When will you listen to our songs? The singers sing to you, the chanters praise you with hymns; the priests, O hundred-powered one, have yoked you like a horse to the post. As you ascend from peak to peak, performing wondrous deeds, you perceive the aim, O Indra, and move with your troop like a mighty bull. Yoke your tawny, mighty steeds, O Indra, who swiftly bear you; then, O Soma-drinker, come to us and attend to the sound of our songs. Well-kindled, O Agni, bring here the gods for the one offering; pure Hotar, accept the oblation. Make for us today, O wise one, a sacrifice rich in sweetness, a delight for our bodies among the gods, at our invocation. Here I call Narāśaṃsa, dear at this sacrifice, with honeyed tongue, for the prepared oblation. O Agni, in your most pleasant chariot, bring the praised gods here; you are the Hotar established by Manu. When today, at sunrise, Mitra, Aryaman, Savitar, and Bhaga—sinless and radiant—bestow their favor, may it be upon us. That destruction, O generous one, is truly mighty; may it come forth. Let those who would cross over our distress be overcome. And may Aditi, sovereign of the shining realm, steadfast in her vow, and those great kings who rule, protect us always. May the Somas gladden you, O stone-wielder; grant us your favor and strike down those who hate the sacred word. With your foot, drive away the stingy, O mighty one, for truly none can withstand you. You are the lord of the pressed offerings, Indra, and of the unpressed as well; you are the king of peoples. Awake, O inspired one, for the true thoughts; Soma, being purified, has entered the vessels. The priests, skilled and dexterous, pour him, as couples with desire. He, being purified, is placed near the sun, embracing both heaven and earth. Even his beloveds, with dearest aid, do not withhold wealth from the one who acts rightly. That Soma, growing and being purified, rich in gifts, may he bring us light—where our forefathers, knowing the path and the sun, have gone forth, crossing the stone. Speak not of anything else, O friends, nor falter; praise Indra, the mighty, together with the pressed Soma, and utter hymns again and again. Like a young bull, powerful and unconquered, who draws the cows, who dispels hatred and unites, who benefits both sides, most mighty and victorious—such is Indra, to whom we sing.