May our hymns give thee great delight. Display thy bounty, Thunderer. Drive off the enemies of prayer.
Crush with thy foot the niggard churls who bring no gifts. Might art thou: There is not one to equal thee.
Thou art the Lord of Soma pressed, Soma unpressed is also thine, Thou art the Sovran of the folk.
Swaying about the active Ones came nigh to Indra at his birth, And shared his great heroic might.
Based upon strength and victory and power, O Indra is thy birth. Thou, Mighty One, art strong indeed.
Thou art the Vritra-slayer, thou, Indra, hast spread the firmament: Thou hast with might upheld the heavens.
Thou, Indra, bearest in thine arms the lightning that accords with thee, Whetting thy thunderbolt with might.
Thou, Indra, art pre-eminent over all creatures in thy strength: Thou hast pervaded every place.
