O Indra, thou lover of the soma draught! The juice hath been pressed and made ready for thee. Come swift as the wind; come eager as the hunter. Drink deeply and let thy power increase with each cup.

The warriors gather round the pressing-stones; their hands do work the mighty levers. Drop after drop the sacred liquid floweth forth, golden as the sun, swift as the eagle's flight. O Indra, how thou lovest this drink! None other pleaseth thee as the soma doth please.

In the waters of the soma thou art born anew; in its embrace thou growest mighty. Thy strength returneth unto thee; thy fire burneth bright. The demon fleeth before thee; the asura is cast down. O Indra, rejoice in thy power!

We have made the offering ready for thee. The soma is pressed and mixed with milk; the hymns are sung; the prayers are raised. Come, O Bull of heaven, and make merry with us. Let thy bounty flow forth like the rivers in flood.

The singers do cry out to thee; the priests do call upon thy name. From all the regions of the earth do the faithful turn their faces toward thee. Thou art the hope of the weak; thou art the strength of the strong. O Indra, grant us thy presence and thy favor.

Ten thousand singers do praise thee; a hundred thousand hearts do cry out unto thee. Thou art the mightiest of all the gods; thou art the lord of lords. Come to our sacrifice and be joyous therein. Make us glad with thy presence; make our offering acceptable.