O Indra, we praise the ancient deeds that made thy name eternal! Long ago, in the days when the cosmos was young and the Devas still struggled to impose order upon chaos, thou didst perform the mighty acts that are remembered still.

Thou didst slay the serpent Vṛtra, that foe of the gods, the creature of the abyss who held the waters captive. For ages he had lain coiled in the depths, and darkness covered the earth. The life-giving rains did not fall; the rivers did not flow. But thou, O mighty one, didst rise up and say, "This shall not endure!" With thy vajra, that thunderbolt of divine wrath, thou didst strike him down. The blow was so terrible that it shattered all the heavens, and Vṛtra fell broken and dying.

Then did the waters rush forth in great torrents, and they flowed down upon the earth, bringing fertility to all the lands. The people saw the rains and gave praise. The fields turned green; the cattle drank deep and grew fat. All manner of creatures — birds and beasts and creeping things — rejoiced in thy deed.

We sing also of how thou didst overcome the mighty Śambara, and how thou didst break the fortresses of the Asuras. No enemy was too strong for thee; no citadel too well defended. Thou didst stride through their ranks as a man strideth through dry grass, and none could withstand thee.

These are the deeds of old, O Indra, yet they live forever in the memory of men. Every bard who tends the sacred fire singeth of them. Every people who hath heard the Vedas knoweth of thy glory. O eternal warrior, let thy deeds of old inspire us now, in our own time of trial, that we too may know victory!