O Indra, come unto the pressing of the soma! The stones are ringing out; the priests are ready. The sacred draught floweth in golden streams.

When thou dost come to the place of sacrifice, all the gods do gather round. The Maruts, thy companions, cry out with joy at thy approaching. The sky itself doth brighten with thy glory.

O mighty one, grant unto us strength! Grant unto us courage in the time of battle. When we do stand against our enemies, let us not falter; let us not turn away in fear.

With thy bolt thou dost pierce the hearts of those who oppose thee. None can withstand thy might; none can stand before thy face. All the kingdoms of the earth do bow before thy power.

O friend of the singer! Hear thou the hymn that we do raise. Accept the offering of soma that we bring with gladness in our hearts.

Let thy favor rest upon us, O Indra! Grant unto us all that we desire. Bless us with cattle and with riches; bless us with sons and with daughters. Guard us through all the days of our lives, and lead us unto the realm of eternal light.