O Indra, where the ground is hard to traverse, smite down our foes, the mortals who assail us, Keep far from us the curse of the reviler: bring us accumulated store of treasures.
God of the fair helm, give Sudās a hundred succours, a thousand blessings, and thy bounty. Strike down the weapon of our mortal foeman: bestow upon us splendid fame and riches.
I wait the power of one like thee, O Indra, gifts of a Helper such as thou art, Hero. Strong, Mighty God, dwell with me now and ever: Lord of Bay Horses, do not thou desert us.
Here are the Kutsas supplicating Indra for might, the Lord of Bays for God-sent conquest. Make our foes ever easy to be vanquished: may we, victorious, win the spoil, O Hero.
With precious things, O Indra, thus content us: may we attain to thine exalted favour. Send our chiefs plenteous food with hero children. Preserve us evermore, ye Gods, with blessings.
