O generous Indra! Thou givest to those who honor thee with the soma-sacrifice. They press the juice; they sing thy praises; they lay the butter upon the fire—and thou rememberest them. Thy rewards fall upon them like rain upon parched earth.

The man who hath pressed the soma shall not lack for anything. His cattle multiply; his herds grow fat; his enemies scatter before him like birds fleeing the hawk. His wife beareth him sons; his fields yield abundant grain. All good things come to him because he hath honored thee, O lord.

The priest who singeth thy hymns with true devotion shall know no poverty. His voice shall be sweet and persuasive; his words shall have power over men's hearts. He shall be honored in the assembly; his counsel shall be heeded. Kings shall seek his favor; the people shall listen when he speaketh.

This is the bond between thee and those who worship thee, O Indra—a bond of mutual exchange, of gift and counter-gift. We offer unto thee the soma and the butter, the songs and the prayers. Thou acceptest these offerings and pourest out thy blessings upon us.

But know this, O lord—there are those who offer nothing, who sing no hymn in thy honor, who press no soma and lay no butter before thee. These shall know only hardship and fear. Let them see the prosperity of those who honor thee, and let them rue their foolishness!

Therefore let us sing louder, O Indra! Let us press the soma more carefully; let us lay upon thy fire the richest butter. Let us be among those who know thy generosity, those whom thou regardest with favor. Grant us the reward of the faithful, the blessings that flow from thy hand!