O Indra, great and glorious! Come hither at our call. We have prepared the sacrifice for thee; the altar burneth bright. The seven pressing-stones have sounded; now come thou to the feast.

In ancient times, thou didst slay the serpent Vṛtra and didst loose the waters. The rivers did flow forth; the cattle were set free. The earth itself was made fertile by thy deeds.

The demons cried out in terror when they beheld thy thunderbolt. The mountains did quake; the very heavens trembled. No creature dared stand against thee, O Bull of Heaven.

Yet thou art not only the god of war and thunder. Thou art also the giver of wealth, the bestower of gifts. The rich man and the poor man alike do call upon thy name.

Come, O Indra, and sit with us at the feast! Drink of the Soma that we have pressed! Let our hymns bring gladness to thy heart, and may thy bounty flow forever.

The Kāṇvas do praise thee with all their hearts. Accept our prayers, O Mighty One, and grant unto us thy protection and thy love.