IF I, O Indra, were, like thee, the single Sovran of all wealth, My worshipper should be rich in kine.
I should be fain, O Lord of Power, to strengthen and enrich the sage, Were I the Lord of herds of kine.
To worshippers who press the juice thy goodness, Indra, is a cow Yielding in plenty kine and steeds.
None is there, Indra, God or man, to hinder thy munificence, The wealth which, lauded, thou wilt give.
The sacrifice made Indra strong when he unrolled the earth, and made Himself a diadem in heaven.
Thine aid we claim, O Indra, thine who after thou hast waxen great Hast won all treasures for thine own.
In Soma's ecstasy Indra spread the firmament and realms of light, When he cleft Vala limb from limb.
Showing the hidden he drave forth the cows for the Aṅgirases, And Vala he cast headlong down.
By Indra were the lumirious realms of heaven established and secured, Firm and immovable from their place.
Indra, thy laud moves quickly like a joyous wave of water-floods: Bright shine the drops that gladden thee.
For thou, O Indra, art the God whom hymns and praises magnify: Thou blessest those who worship thee.
Let the two long-maned Bay Steeds bring Indra to drink the Soma juice, The Bountiful to our sacrifice.
With waters' foam thou torest off, Indra, the head of Namuci, Subduing all contending hosts.
The Dasyus, when they fain would climb by magic arts and mount to heaven, Thou, Indra, castest down to earth.
As Soma-drinker conquering all, thou scatteredst to every side Their settlement who poured no gifts.
