Where is Indra now renowned? Among what folk is he today held dear, as a trusted friend among men— he who, whether dwelling among seers or hidden from sight, is ever exalted in song?

Here among us is Indra praised. This day he is sung as the bearer of the mace, a match for the hymn— he who, as a friend among tribes, hath won his fame, not in part, but full.

He is the lord of mighty strength, full and unfailing; of manly might he is the master— he who bears the bold mace,
as a father doth bear his dear son.

He, who hath yoked the wild steeds of the Wind— the god who driveth the steeds of the god— runneth in glory down the shining path, loosed on the highways, praised far and wide.

To those very two Wind-horses hast thou come, O Indra, silver-bright, to guide them thyself, steeds for whom no god nor man may be master.

Then Uśanā, beholding your coming, did ask:
“With what cause hast thou come to our house?
From the heights of heaven and the breadth of earth ye are come unto a mortal.” For us, Indra, thou shalt speak, for our sacred rite uplifted.
And we, in turn, entreat this boon:
that thou strike down Śuṣṇa, the unmanly foe.

For he is the Dasyu of no deeds, of no thought, whose ways are strange, whose law is none.

O smasher of strangers, lay low the weapon of this Dāsa.

Be near, O Indra, bold among the bold.
Let thy might be our shield.
In many lands the offerings cry to thee, clamoring like the war-shout in battle.

Thou didst rouse these noble men to shatter the stronghold for the Karpan, O mace-bearing hero, when Śuṣṇa lay hidden.
The wise singers stood beside thee, gathering strength from thy lordly power, as clans draw strength from kin.

All these riches became thine, O Indra,
when thou didst seize his hoard to bestow, O champion with the mace, when thou and thy fellows broke all born of Śuṣṇa.

Let not thy noble powers stray from us,
O champion Indra.
Let each of us stand in favor with thy might, O wielder of the thunder-mace.

Let thy gifts prove true for us—no harm in them— thy blessings, whose worth we would know,
as men know the bounty of milk-cows, O bearer of strength.

Though handless, footless, the Earth grew firm through her deep wisdom, yet thou didst circle thy foe with sacred tread, and strike down Śuṣṇa for all of his days.

Drink, O hero Indra—drink the soma!
Bear us no ill, O lord of goods, for thou art kind.
Guard well the singers and the noble patrons, and enrich us with thy great store.