There is a man whose every step is filled with happiness, whose giving is generous and open-handed. He never violates the wishes of others, nor does he harm the wealth of the wealthy. In this world, the cows are ever pure and ever-yielding, and the gods remain always faultless in their ways. Let the forest draw near, and let the cows come with it; let them approach the path, their udders full, ready to nourish. In this sweetness, may we dwell and prosper in wealth, gaining insight and wisdom, O Indra. The Maruts, with their hymns, praise the Sun, while Indra—youthful, famed, and mighty—is exalted. Let us sing a song for Indra, the slayer of Vṛtra, the inspired one who delights in our devotion. Agni, ever-present and wise, bears our offerings, riding a goodly chariot. Agni, you are our nearest and our protector, auspicious and sheltering. Bhaga, splendid like Agni, bestows the treasure of the great. Let the proclamation go forth everywhere—at the front and in the assembly—calling all to come near. Dawn, most beloved of sisters, sets the path in motion, beautifully born. For whom do these worlds exist? They exist for Indra and all the gods. Let the gifts flow to you, Indra, as streams follow their natural course. With these gifts, may we attain the prize established by the gods, rejoicing in strength, blessed with good heroes. Mitra and Varuna pour forth nourishment, and Indra, make rich food for us. Over all, Indra reigns supreme. At the Trikadruka sacrifice, the mighty one—eager and powerful—drank the barley-mixed soma with Vishnu, as he desired. Indra delighted in this, preparing for a deed of great strength; god joined with god, and the true drop accompanied true Indra. This one, of a thousand measures—the vision of the wise, the thought, the light, the upholder of order—gathered the dawns, those guileless ones, full of resolve and insight, searching for the cow. Indra, come to us from afar; come as lord of the assembly, as king and true lord. We call to you, eager for gifts, like sons calling their father for the greatest prize. I call to Indra, generous and mighty, unconquered and famed, who holds all things together. May he turn towards us for wealth, and may the thunderbolt-wielder make all good paths for us. Let there be hearing; let us place Agni at the front with our thoughts, choosing that divine strength—choosing Indra and Vayu. When they, striving, join the new navel of the shining one, our thoughts truly approach the gods. May our thoughts go forth to the great Vishnu, to the Maruts born of the mountain, to their troop, for sacrifice, for strength, for blessings, to the upholders of vows, the mighty. With golden radiance, purified, he overcomes all hatreds with his team, shining like the sun; the streams on his back gleam, the ruddy, golden one moves through all forms with his seven songs and seven mouths. I praise Savitar, the mighty god of wise action, true in impulse, the treasure-holder, whose thought is exalted, whose impulse flashes forth. By his command, the golden-handed, self-radiant one has measured out the heavens. I honor Agni the priest, generous, son of strength, knower of all births. Wise, upright in rites, he is the god of divine compassion, the spreader of ghee, with bright flame, calling forth the clarified butter. That first, ancient deed of yours, heroic Indra, is spoken of in heaven: by your might, you broke open the waters, making the world overflow with strength, creating nourishment and food. Thus, to Indra at the festival… O Pavamana, born of the pressing, you have placed your seat in heaven and on earth, granting mighty protection and great fame. Flow, Soma, with the sweetest, most delightful stream, pressed for Indra to drink. O vigorous one, flow with your stream, with strength for the Maruts; bearing all powers, surge forth with energy. With your most excellent exhilaration, flow forth with the sacred drink, O god, heroic destroyer of curses. Three voices are raised—the cows low, the milch-cows bellow, and the tawny one comes roaring. O Soma, flow for Indra and the Maruts, most sweet, having settled in the womb of the chant. This bright drop, for exhilaration and skill, has settled in the waters, like an eagle in its mountain nest. Flow, O tawny one, skillful and strong, for the gods to drink; the exhilaration is for the Maruts and for Vāyu. The resounding Soma, mountain-born, has flowed through the filter; in exhilaration, you are all-pervading. The beloved sage of heaven, set in the offspring, moves with sounds; the wise one, with inspired will, goes forth. The pressed Somas, rich in exhilaration, have advanced for our fame, O generous one, in the assembly. The wise Somas, like buffaloes, lead forth the waters as waves, breaking through the woods. Flow, O Soma, strong and pressed; make us renowned among people; drive away all hatreds. Truly, you are strong with brilliance; we call upon you, O purified one, radiant with light, who makes heaven visible.