You, O Indra, are the great remover of darkness, the mighty slayer of Vṛtra. To you, we pray: bestow your favor upon those who are generous. As the sweet and wise Soma flows, it does so with the highest exhilaration, meant for you, Indra, to grant you the greatest and most heavenly delight. When Soma is drunk, the bull becomes even more vigorous, and men, too, gain new light. With sharpened insight, one swiftly draws near to the prize, like a racer speeding toward the goal. So let these pressed and exhilarating drops be offered to Indra; let the swift streams, born for song and praise, reach you—O knower of the light. This pressed Soma flows for your support, Indra; Soma, ever victorious, acts according to his own wisdom. In your exhilaration, you seize the prize and the support, taking up your mighty, manly thunderbolt and winning victory in the waters. To ensure the joy and purity of this offering, friends, drive away the long-tongued dog from the exhilarating, pressed Soma. Soma, when poured forth in a pure, shining stream, is like a noble horse, fit for great deeds. To this Soma, free from anger, let men approach with thoughtful minds, and let the streams be ready for the sacrifice. The beloved, swift-flowing, and renowned Soma is purified, bearing mighty names. Upon this Soma, the far-seeing one ascends the all-reaching chariot from the great sun. The tongue of truth flows—sweet, dear, and unfailing, the lord of thought—while the son places the third name of his parents in the shining realm of heaven. The shining ones have poured Soma into the jars, roaring, guided by men, into the golden vessel. The givers of truth have gathered, and you, O Dawn, shine forth in your triple splendor. With sacrifice upon sacrifice and praise upon praise, we honor you, Agni, immortal Jātavedas, beloved friend, for your skill and acceptance of our offerings. May we serve the Son of Strength with oblations; may he protect us in contests, increase our strength, and guard our bodies. Come, Agni, and hear these varied words; may you grow strong with our libations. Wherever you set your mind and insight, there you establish your seat. None of your gifts have been wasted, O Lord of the people; for this, we seek your continued favor. We, unburdened, call upon you, mighty and wondrous wielder of the bolt, for help. We approach you for aid in our deeds; may you, O strong one, come to us, who have acted boldly. We have chosen you, Indra, as our helper and steadfast friend. Therefore, O Indra, singer of praises, we call you with longing; come to us with the waters and the flowing streams. O hero, we offer you praises, O stone-splitter, ever-growing day by day. The two bays, yoked to your wide-wheeled chariot, gather at the songs of the inspired; harnessed by words, they carry you, Indra, knower of the light. Sing to Indra, the drinker of Soma, for your draughts; he, all-conquering and of a hundred powers, is the greatest among men. Call on Indra, much-invoked and much-praised, ever renowned in song. For us, Indra is the giver of great gifts, the bestower of prizes, our leader, mighty by his recognition. Let us sing our exhilaration to Indra, tamer of horses, for the drinker of Soma. Let us praise the generous one with hymns and with strength, as men do for the true benefactor. You, Indra, are the giver of prizes, of cattle, O hundred-powered; you are the giver of gold, O wealthy one. We, your friends, come to you, Indra, for this very purpose; the Kaṇvas rejoice in you with hymns. Never, O wielder of the bolt, have we failed in any contest or need; by your praises alone, you have recognized us. The gods desire the one who presses the Soma; they do not long for one who sleeps, and the ever-vigilant do not fall into negligence. Let our songs resound around the pressed Soma for Indra, the exhilarator; let the singers praise with hymns. In whom all glories and the seven assemblies rejoice—upon that pressed Soma, we call you, Indra. The gods, attentive at the three libations, have prepared the sacrifice; may our songs be accepted. Here is your Soma, O Indra, purified and set upon the sacred grass; come quickly and drink of it. This pressed Soma, prepared for your delight and contest, is for your enjoyment, O companion of Śācī, O Ākhaṇḍala, you are invoked. That bull with horns, offspring of the waters, with a vessel for libation—upon him you have set your mind. Come to us, Indra, and grasp the splendid, abundant prize with your mighty right hand. For we know you to be powerful in deeds, mighty in help, abundant in gifts, and vast in your aids. Neither gods nor mortals can restrain you, O hero, when you give; like a fearsome bull, none can hold you back.