Sing ye of Indra, the mighty one, the wielder of strength, the exalted bringer of victory—he who goeth forth in battle, O priest, and shineth as the true victor.

The winds have shaped thee, O Indra, thou who art supreme and swiftly-moving; in truth, the mind of Indra is to be perceived and understood.

Indra, by thy mighty power and strength we come to hear thee; in the sacrifice and in thy vast potency, as in the Sun, art thou revealed.

Indra, the word hath flowed forth unto plenty, for he doth rule over all that is; the winds, bound by thee, rush forth with mighty force.

Indra, thou art the drinker of Soma, immortal one, O god; thou art a hero, mighty in thy strength, devourer of the strong.

Thou art unto mortals a chariot of battle, O hero, unconquerable; thou art the lord of steeds, mighty in the sacred rites.

Thou art the bull of all cattle, O Indra; thou rulest over all herds; thou art the ruler of men in distant realms and waters.

Thou art, O Indra, by law as the Sun; thou art called upon by many; thou art the first, the keeper—to thee come forth our praises and songs.

Thou art, O Indra, the lord of the gods, the great king, firm in thy might; thou, O priest, art magnified by waters and groweth strong.

O Indra, make thou the hymns to bear good fruit; may the meditations remain rightly ordered, O priest who swalloweth the waters.

O Indra, thy drinkers of Soma feast upon thee in days of old and in many ways; do thou hearken to our word and song.

Thou art, O Indra, of ghee-rich abundance; the wealth, the cosmic order, and the wisdom—the sacrifice they bear for thy aid.

Thou art, O Indra, the wealth, the treasure that strengtheneth; the protectors stand firm in thy gift, O priest, and are made glad.

Indra, both the gift and the delight—in fellowship and friendship, do thy followers appeal to thee, O devourer of the strong.

Thou art, O Indra, the warrior of long life, the man of might; O Indra, thy power and strength—thou, O priest, art the bearer of the burden.

Thou art, O Indra, the mighty bull of the village; O Soma, thou art cherished by the sons; thou, O priest, art the chariot of deliverance.

Indra, thou art the blessing of the twin gods; thou art the blessing of cattle and of firm things; thou, O priest, art the beloved of the swift.

Thou art, O Indra, that from which strength is born; thou art, O priest, our prosperity; thou, O priest, art the devourer of the strong.

Indra, well-born is the fortune; fortune divine ruleth all the world; thou, O priest, art the lord of those who hold the cup.

O Indra, with a hundredfold course dost thou go forth upon the path of plenty; a hundredfold is the song—so the hymn-singers speak with Soma.