To him the Lord of all, the Lord of wealth, of light; him who is Lord for ever, Lord of men and tilth, Him who is Lord of horses, Lord of kine, of floods, to Indra, to the Holy bring sweet Soma juice.
To him the potent One, who conquers and breaks down, the Victor never vanquished who disposes all, The mighty-voiced, the rider, unassailable, to Indra everconquering speak your reverent prayer.
Still Victor, loved by mortals, ruler over men, o’erthrower, warrior, he hath waxen as he would; Host-gatherer, triumphant, honoured mid the folk. Indra's heroic deeds will I tell forth to all.
The strong who never yields, who slew the furious fiend, the deep, the vast, of wisdom unattainable; Who speeds the good, the breaker-down, the firm, the vast,—Indra whose rites bring joy hath made the light of Dawn.
By sacrifice the yearning sages sending forth their songs found furtherance from him who speeds the flood. In Indra seeking help with worship and with hymn, they drew him to themselves and won them kine and wealth.
Indra, bestow on us the best of treasures, the spirit of ability and fortune; Increase of riches, safety of our bodies, charm of sweet speech, and days of pleasant weather.
