Come unto us, O Indra, mighty king! Drink deep of this soma bright,
The sweet pressed juice that mortal men have stirred, the nectar of the rite.
Thy thunderbolt doth gleam like sharpened steel; thy roar doth shake the earth.
The demon Vṛtra fell before thy might, and thou hast shown thy worth.

We call to thee with voices raised on high, O golden-limbed god of war.
The Maruts dance in thunder at thy side; together ye are more
Than heaven's gates can hold, than earth can bear. Come thou and drink with me—
The soma flows for thee alone, O grand and mighty deity.

Slay thou the foes that creep in darkened places, the serpents coiled in dread,
The demons that would rend the sacred sacrifice and dash the worshiper dead.
With hand made strong by hundred victories, let thy bolt strike true and far,
And drink the soma, Indra! Let thy presence fill this home with war.

The waters that were bound beneath the mountains—those dost thou set free.
The sun that hung in darkness now doth shine forth for all men to see.
Thou bringest forth the kine, thou grantest gold and treasure unto kings,
And we, thy priests, do offer up the soma, the finest of all things.

Come now, O Indra, thunder-voiced! The altar is prepared with care.
The butter burns; the hymn is raised; the singers lift their voices in the air.
Drink thou the soma that we press for thee; be satisfied and strong,
And let thy glory rest upon this household; let us to thee belong.

We know thee not with human eyes, O vast and all-encompassing one.
Thy form is hidden in the clouds, yet thou art known by deeds thou hast done.
The mountains fled before thy stride; the forests bend beneath thy might.
So drink the soma, noble god, and let thy presence burn as bright.

O Indra, grant us strength to live, grant us protection from all harm.
Let enemies before us fall like harvested grain beneath the storm.
We praise thee with our trembling hearts, with voices raised in fervent song—
Come down and drink, O golden god! To thee forever shall we long.