Let Indra, our own lord and mighty one, draw near for joy and stirring.
He, strong and forward-driving by his own law, sendeth forth his strength over all powers, with great and boundless bull-force.

Thy chariot, O Indra, standeth firm beneath thee, thy pale mares are willing and well-reined.

Thy mace cleaveth to thy hand, O lord of men.
Ride swiftly, O king, upon this goodly path.
When thou hast drunk, we shall make thy bull-force rise anew.

Let the bearers of Indra bring him hither— the lord in whose arm the mace doth rest.

Let him come with might, with force, the bull who sendeth his power abroad.
Let those who feast with him bring him among us.

Even so dost thou soak thyself in the lord of the draught, the cup-companion, the like-minded one, the staff of our sustenance.

Make his strength thine own; take him wholly into thee, that thou mayest be mighty for the upholding of those who keep watch beside us.

Surely good shall come, for my prayer is spoken.
Draw nigh to the offering of him who holdeth the soma, where fair prayers rise like flame.

Thou art the master—be seated here upon this sacred grass.
Thy draughts none may gainsay, for such is the holy rule.

The first prayers to the gods were loosed each in its own way; and from each rose a fame not easily outshone.

But the ones who offered no shelter, who could not mount the ship of sacrifice, they sank away in stillness.

Let it be so again:
Let the evil-hearted, whose steeds are poorly bound, fall behind, turned backward in their going.

But let those who are near and face the way ahead stand ready to give, when all rites and sustenance are set in order.

He laid a sure ground beneath the shaking hills and fields; Heaven gave a cry, and the mid-reaches quaked.

He held apart the twin Holy Places, once clasped as one.
Drinking the draught of the bull, he lifted up the sacred song in his delight.

This crook I bring to thee, well-shaped and fit— with it, break thou the breakers of hooves, O giver of gifts.

Make thee a home in this pressing of soma.
Be partaker with us in the draught and the quest, O generous one.

With kine may we cast out all wanton neglect, and with barley may we drive off hunger, O thou much-besought.

With our kings and folk may we be foremost in the winning.

Let Indra, lord of the holy craft, shield us on all sides— from behind, from above, from underfoot, from him that would do harm,
from before and from the midst.
Let him, our fellow, make wide room for us, his fellows.