I shall uplift the praise of Indra, most manful and strong, who by his greatness did sunder the realms of light and stretch the ends of earth apart—who set bounds in their places and filled the vastness between, out-reaching the rivers by his mighty power.

As the sun doth wheel about the farthest breadths, so let Indra cause to turn in like wise the coursing of this day, as wheels upon a chariot, for the sun, ever restless, standeth not still. He hath shattered the blackness of night with the blaze of his flame.

Sing unto him anew with the ancient tongue—a sacred speech that turneth not aside, without match in the skies or upon the ground—unto Indra, who hath marked the tribes of the stranger as one may behold the backs of horses, straight and bent, and needeth no friend to aid him.

For Indra I have sent forth my songs, as waters arise from the deep in surging unrest, for him who with his strength did cleave the sky from the soil, even as wheels are held asunder by their axle.

He who draweth war-might from his draught, whose first onset cutteth keen—the loud, fierce shooter, whose drink is the silver-bright Soma—know ye, no thicket nor tree hath ever beguiled Indra with false likeness to that holy draught.

To him, whom not the sky nor the earth, nor the firm land, nor the air between, nor the hills may match, hath Soma flowed. When his wrath is drawn out in battle, he breaketh the hard and scattereth the stout.

He smote Vṛtra as an axe felleth trees. He brought down the holds of the foe. He hewed out river-paths through the stone. As one breaketh a fresh-made pot, so split he the mount. With his yokemates, he won the kine.

Thou alone, Indra, art the wise repayer of what is owed. As a blade cleaveth the joint, so cleavest thou the crooked ways of those who trespass against the law of Mitra and of Varuṇa, as men break their sworn bond.

Those of foul walk who cross the will of Mitra, and of Aryaman, who break troth and spurn Varuṇa—on them, O bull-strong Indra, grind thy red, swelling death-weapon. Let them feel the weight of wrath who are not joined with us.

Indra is lord of the sky, Indra of the earth, Indra of the waters, Indra of the hills. Indra is master of the strong and of the wise; in peace call upon him, and in war likewise.

Indra, the mighty, reacheth beyond the day and beyond the night, beyond the midst between, and beyond the deep spring of the sea. Beyond the winds' broad goings he goeth, beyond the earth’s last edge, beyond the streams and the lands of men.

As the torch of ever-kindled dawn, let thy unsated bolt, O Indra, roll forth. As a rock cast from the sky, let thy hottest dart strike the breakers of bonds and faith.

The months gave place to him, the trees gave place, the herbs gave place, the mountains gave place. The twin halves of the world made way for Indra in his birthing hour. The waters, too, stepped aside for him.

When shall thy vengeance come, O Indra, that thou may rend the might of the fiend who presseth hard upon us? Let them who draw blood from their own lie strewn like kine at the slaughter, as fell Vṛtra, the earth-embracer.

They who have struck at us in pride and strength, seeking to match us, let them, O Indra, who are friendless, be cast into sightless night. Let the good stars of night have the better of them.

For the many soma-pourings of the folk and the holy words of the seers gladden thee. Hearken to this call held in one accord; with thy help, bear us onward over all who stand against.

Even so, O Indra, may we behold thy fresh gifts that bring forth good. And with thy help, Indra, may we of the house of Viśvāmitra know these favors, as now we lift our voice at dawn.

For blessing we call upon generous Indra, most manful, here at this raid, at the winning of the prize—on the strong hearer, for battle’s aid, the breaker of hindrance, the taker of spoil.