I.

Sing we the mighty Indra, whose arm is never weary,
Who rideth in the war-chariot drawn by golden horses,
Whose thunder shaketh heaven and earth to their foundations,
The lord of warriors, the slayer of the demon hosts.

II.

He beareth the golden thunderbolt in his right hand,
That weapon which doth rend asunder the mountains,
By it he hath broken through the demon's strongholds,
And given free passage to the rivers and the rains.

III.

O mighty Indra, thou art the friend of man,
Thou hearest the prayers of them that call upon thee,
Grant us the strength to overcome our enemies,
Give us the victory in battle and the spoils of war.

IV.

The gods themselves do tremble at thy coming,
Maruts and Aśvins wait upon thy will,
Thou sittest higher than all the powers of heaven,
King of the gods, lord of the three worlds.

V.

What hero can withstand when thou dost raise thy weapon?
What fortress can resist thy terrible assault?
The demons flee before thee like the beasts before the hunter,
And mortals praise thy name from dawn till darkness falleth.

VI.

O Indra, thou whom no foe hath ever vanquished,
We pour the soma for thee, we sing thy mighty deeds,
Grant us thy favor, grant us thy protection,
That we may walk in peace and prosper all our days.

VII.

Come thou to us when enemies do threaten,
Come as thou didst to them of old, our forefathers,
With thy strong arm, with thy victorious purpose,
And scatter thou our foes like dust before the wind.