Hear now the tale woven from these sacred verses. The wise ones, seeking prosperity and shelter, turn to the mighty Asura, Indra, longing for his favor as one seeks a vast skin for wealth. They choose him, the most worshipful among gods, as their immortal priest, wise in the ways of sacrifice. With reverence, they invoke Agni, radiant offspring of the waters, whose excellent flame brings the favor of Mitra and Varuṇa and the blessings of celestial waters. Agni, protector among mortals in contests and giver of prizes, grants lasting riches to those he aids. None can withstand his strength or surpass him; even the least among them receives a prize worthy of fame. May this prize be won by all peoples with their swift horses, seized by sages, and be the bringer of wealth. Together, the ten sisters—thoughts of the wise—cleanse, while bowstrings and the tawny one circle the vessel of the sun like a steed racing for the prize. Like a calf among its mothers, the mighty one bearing gifts moves with the waters; like a youth among women, he goes forth, carrying the vessel with the cows. Wise Soma flows forth, joining streams and filling the udder; cows sprinkle the head with milk in the vessels, as treasures are poured out. Indra is invited to drink the pressed juice, to delight in it, rich in cows, and to be an ally in the shared feast, his thoughts supporting the worshippers. They pray for his generosity, for protection from enemies, for splendid aids to guide them to his favor. Three times, seven cows have milked for him in the highest heaven, true and strong; he has separated four other worlds and made them beautiful. Consuming the delightful nectar, he spreads heaven and earth with his poetry; the powerful waters expand in greatness, as the fame of the god reveals his seat. Let these be his signs—immortal and invincible in both births—by which, with heroism and divine power, purification occurs, and the king is seized by their thoughts. With hymns, Vāyu is praised; Mitra and Varuṇa are purified; the wise, chariot-bearing man and mighty Indra with his thunderbolt are purified. Garments, cows, and splendid golden chariots are purified for Soma, the god. Divine treasures and all earthly things are purified, seeking wealth for the worshippers, O descendant of Jamadagni. When Maghavan, Indra, was born for the slaying of Vṛtra, he expanded and supported the earth and heaven. Then the sacrifice was born, the hymn and bright praise arose; Indra became lord over all that has arisen and all that lives. Cooked within them, they bring forth and raise the sun in the sky; the song shines, adorned with beautiful praises, great for the singer. Indra’s greatness is drunk like a fish drinks water, like desire for the cup; his mighty Soma is rich in prizes and brings a thousandfold reward. Let his desire and noble exhilaration come to the worshippers; mighty Indra, victorious in battle, bring the reward. He is the hero, the winner, the driver of the human chariot; mighty, he destroys the lawless enemy, shining like a cup with fire. Sixth, third, half—purify, bring rain for the people; let the wave of waters from heaven, great and free from illness, bring nourishment. Purify with the stream by which the cows have come home, born for the worshippers. Purify ghee with the stream, beloved by gods in sacrifice; bring rain, purify. Flow with strength for the worshippers, stream through the purifier; let the gods hear their desire. The flowing one shatters obstacles, drives away enemies, shining with ancient lights. Bring to him who desires, who knows all things, for those ready to go, for those journeying, for men on the path behind. With these, approach him—with the Somās, the drinker of Soma; with the pure, the strong, the pressed drops, approach Indra. If the wise one adorns the Vedas with pressed drops, with moons, with Soma, then he sets forth the strong thread of the universe. O Adhvaryu, bring forth the Soma for the worshippers from this pressed juice; perhaps he will grant the praiseworthy, the desired, the song of praise. Sing a hymn to the tawny, self-powerful, ruddy, sky-touching Soma. Purify the pressed Soma with stones released by hand; let the sweet juice flow, let the honey run. Bow down, sit near, listen attentively; place the drop, the moon, in Indra. Flow, Soma, slayer of foes, wise among peoples, bring blessing to the cow, to the gods, fulfilling their desire. O Soma, you are poured out for Indra to drink, for exhilaration; even the mind, lord of mind, is poured out. O purified Soma, grant heroic strength and wealth; unite the worshippers with Indra, O drop. The Sun rises with its rays, bringing fame and strength, driving away evil, coming as the remover of darkness. He who, with the strength of his arms, broke ninety-nine fortresses and slew the serpent—the slayer of Vṛtra—is praised. Thus flows the story, a hymn to the gods, a celebration of their power, their gifts, and their blessings.