Now let us honor mighty Indra and raise our voices in praise, for the freshly pressed Somas, eager and devoted, worship his supreme power. With vigor and reverence, we celebrate his strength. Indra, come to us! Accept our offering, O hero, and arrive with your bay steeds. Drink of the pressed Soma as one delights in sweetness, rejoicing in the lovely exhilaration it brings. Fill your new belly, Indra, as with the honey of heaven, tasting this pressed Soma. To you, the exhilarating and well-spoken draughts have come, bringing joy and strength. Indra, strong as Mitra, vanquished Vritra; like a wise priest, he broke open Vala; like Bhrigu, he withstood the enemies, his might swelling in Soma’s exhilaration. Soma, you are the third and the second half—become the giver of cows, the knower of wealth, the finder of gold. Flow forth, O Indu, established in all the worlds. Heroic and all-knowing, Soma, to you men gather and sit, singing their songs. Among men, Soma, you see all, O purifying bull; you move everywhere. Flow for us, rich in wealth and gold, so that we may prosper in all worlds. O Indu, master, you travel through these worlds, harnessing your swift, green-winged companions. Let them pour forth sweet ghee and milk; by your command, Soma, let the peoples stand firm and secure. O purifying, all-knowing Soma, your streams have flowed forth like the rays of the sun, spreading light and life. You make a banner across the sky, passing through all forms. Like the ocean, Soma, you swell, encompassing all. Born anew, you seek out speech, O purifying one, and in your course you cry out like the god, the sun himself. The Somas have flowed forth, the purifying Indus, shining as they choose their place among the waters. The cows, too, have flowed forth, like waters descending in a stream; purified, they have come to Indra. O purifying Soma, you flow forth, delighting Indra; guided by men, you are carried away in devotion. Pressed by the stones, O Indu, you are poured around the filter, ready for Indra’s abode. Delighting men, Soma, you flow on, upholding the tribes; ever fresh, you are worthy of praise. Flow, O slayer of Vṛtra, most worthy of hymns; pure, radiant, and wondrous are you. You are called pure and radiant; Soma, when pressed, is sweet—divine, heroic, and destroyer of reproach. As a sage, you protect the gods with unfailing streams, summoning all contests and challenges. You bring to the singers wealth rich in cows, a thousandfold, O purifying one. Cleansed with all intelligence, purified by thought, grant us, Soma, lasting fame. Flow forth with great glory for the generous, with steadfast wealth; bring nourishment to the singers. Soma, like a king of good vows, you have entered our songs; purified, you are wondrous fire. That fire, difficult to restrain in the waters, is purified between the rays, and Soma sits among the hosts. Playful as a festive offering, you delight; Soma, you go to the filter, placing strength within the hymn. Flow for us, Soma, with nourishing drops again and again, bringing all good fortunes. O Indu, as your praise and your pressed juice, settle down upon the dear seat of the sacred grass. Soma, flow for us with the pressed juice, bestowing cows and horses, swift as the days themselves. You, who conquer and are never conquered, who strike down the foe without fear—so, Soma, flow as the winner of thousands. Streams of yours, O Indu, flowing with honey, I have let flow for help; with them, you have reached the filter. He flows for Indra to drink, passing through the unspent waters, sitting at the source of truth. Soma, you flow around, sweetest for the Angirases, granting wide space and drawn milk. Your splendors are like the flashing of rain, the brightness of Agni, the courses of the dawns—when, impelled among the plants and woods, you yourself gather the food at the meal. Driven by the wind, impelled by desire, you stand among the herds, eager as a seeker of food; then the charioteers strive for you, as for the portions of Agni, the undying one who burns. As the maker of wisdom, the arranger of the assembly, Agni the priest surrounds the thought—at the child’s oblation, you are chosen as the common friend, O mighty one; none other is chosen but you. Indeed, abundant is your help; now, O Varuna and Mitra, I have sought your good will. May we attain your secure abode, O mighty ones, and may we ever remain your friends, O Mitra. Guard us, O Mitra, with your protections, and may you both defend us with strong aid; may we overcome our enemies with our bodies. Rising with strength, united in power, after drinking, you shook your cheeks, O Indra, for the pressed Soma among the hosts. Both worlds followed you, O Indra, when you became the slayer of the foe. Now, I seek from Indra the eight-footed speech, newly colored and grown in truth, for the expansion of my body and being.