O all-mighty Indra, drive afar thine eastern foes, away with them that rise in the west, send off the northern host, O shield-bearer, and thrust the southern throng to naught— that we may dwell in joy beneath thy wide-spread ward.

Yea, like the tillers with their barley grain, who reap and thresh it by the lore of old— so here, even here, lay thou the wealth
of those who came not to the holy bending of the sacred grass in reverent rite.

For one-horsed carts fare not well on the field, and so hath fame ne’er been won by lone striving.

But the fire-breathed ones, seeking kine, seeking steeds, seeking prize and glory, cleave unto Indra the bull, to strive beside him.

O Aśvins, who drank the surā-soma when ye set it apart with Namuci the dark one, ye aided Indra in his wondrous works,

O fair-faced lords of charm.

As father and mother uplift their child, so did ye, O Aśvins, raise Indra aloft with the skill of your hands and wise-spoken words.
And when thou, strong one, drank the parted draught, Sarasvatī, full of gifts, did heal thee.

Let Indra be our safeguard and our stay, our ready help, our gracious lord of bounty.

Let him cast out hatred; let him make us bold.
May we be crowned with noble men in throng.

Let us abide within the grace of him who is meet to receive the rite.
Beneath his favor may we dwell, well-omened.
Let Indra, strong of shield and hand, keep all spite far from our doors.