O Indra, drink the soma poured! Let rapture flood thy mighty limbs. The sweetened draught hath been prepared; the singers call thee to the feast. Come down, O Bull, with thunderous tread, and take thy seat upon the grass.

The mortals praise thee, mighty lord. Thou art the guardian of the herds, the keeper of the cattle-wealth. Through thee alone the rivers flow; by thee alone the dawn breaks forth. The heavens hold their breath when thou dost wake, and all the earth trembles at thy coming.

Drink deep, O Soma-lord divine! Let wisdom flood thy radiant mind. We have prepared the sacred rite; the priests have chanted hymns of praise. The songs rise up like smoke to thee; accept our offerings, glorious one.

Thy thunderbolt doth shake the void; thy voice doth roll across the sky. No demon dares to face thy wrath; no foe can stand against thy might. The serpent Vṛtra bowed before thy club; the waters burst forth at thy command.

O Indra, grant unto thy folk the plenty that they crave. Let herds increase and grain grow high; let children born be strong and bold. Guard us from danger, shield us well, and keep our enemies at bay.

The singer's voice calls out to thee from every sacred fire. Accept this hymn, this soma-draught; let rapture fill thy mighty breast. Be thou our champion evermore, our guardian and our sovereign lord.