Unto thee we stretch forth our hands, O mighty Indra. Unto thee we raise our voices in supplication. We have pressed the Soma for thee; we have kindled the sacred fire. The offerings rise like incense to heaven. Hear us, we beseech thee!

We petition thee for aid in our time of need. Our cattle are few; our harvests fail us. Our enemies gather at our borders, threatening to sweep away all that we have built. We are weak, O lord, and we turn to thee for strength.

Grant us bounty, O golden-armed one! Fill our storehouses with grain. Let our herds multiply beyond counting. Let the rains come in their season, gentle and life-giving. Let the sun shine upon our fields, warming the earth and ripening the crops. Give us prosperity, we pray thee.

But more than wealth, we crave thy protection. Stand between us and those who wish us harm. Let thy terrible might be known to our foes. Let them tremble at the sound of thy name. Shatter their confidence as thou hast shattered the demons of old.

We offer thee the choicest parts of our sacrifice. The fat of the bull is laid upon the flame. The milk is poured into the vessels. The Soma is pressed fresh and sweet. All is done in reverence, all in hope that thou wilt look upon us with favour.

Hear our petition, O lord of strength and plenty! We do not ask for more than is meet. We ask only for sustenance, for safety, for thy blessing upon our houses. Accept our offering. Grant us aid. Let thy bounty flow upon us like the waters of the mountain springs.