Hail to thee, O Indra, whom soma hath made mighty! The soma flows within thy veins, and thy strength groweth measureless. Thou didst drink deep of the sacred plant, and thy enemies were scattered as dust before the wind. The demons fled before thy laughter; the dragons were cast down into the pit of darkness.

We sing of thy conquests, O golden one! Thou didst slay Vṛtra, the vast serpent who imprisoned the waters. With thy vajra — that adamantine bolt forged in the heavens — thou didst shatter him, and the rivers burst forth, flowing to the sea. The people drank deep, and their fields grew green. Cattle multiplied; children were born strong.

Thou art the warrior whom all warriors worship. No foe standeth before thee in the combat; no shield turneth aside thy blows. The Maruts follow thee into battle, and the very earth trembleth at thy coming. The thunderclouds herald thy approach, and the lightning descendeth from thy hand.

We pour the soma in thy honor, O mighty one! We light the sacred fires and chant the mantras. Grant us thy favor, that we may smite our enemies as thou smittest thine. Let our cattle grow fat; let our women bear warriors. Let our enemies drink the dust of defeat, and let their widows keen in the night.

Thou art the soma-drinker, the storm-bringer, the unconquerable lord of the sky. Thy deeds are sung in every realm where the Vedas are recited. From the eastern sunrise to the western darkness, all the peoples know thy name. O Indra, accept our sacrifice, and be thou our shield in battle!