O Indra! Mightiest of all the gods, whose strength is beyond compare!
Thou wast born from thy mother's womb already mighty and full-grown, girt about with power.
In that same hour when first thou didst draw breath, thou didst seize thy thunderbolt and laugh.

What creature dared confront thee on the day of thy birth? What god dared stand against thy will?
Thou look'st upon the sky and earth and spake thy first commands to gods and men alike.
The very heavens trembled at thy first cry; the mountains shook; the waters fled thy path.

Thou art the lord of hosts, the champion of battles; no enemy can stand before thy might.
Thy arm is strong as iron; thy fury is a whirlwind that none can withstand or turn aside.
When thou dost lift thy thunderbolt and hurl it forth, it splinteredth the foes like brittle stone.

The great serpent Vritra, mighty as a mountain, coiled in the darkness of the ancient days.
He held the waters captive in his belly; no creature could draw forth a single drop.
But thou, O Indra, didst go forth alone to meet him in that terrible and fateful hour.

Thou strike'st him with thy bolt; his scales did shatter; his body broke asunder like a clay pot.
The waters burst forth roaring from his corpse and rushed down to the fields and fertile plains.
Ten thousand rivers born from that one blow did flow forth ever after unto all the ages.

In glory thou did'st stride forth from that battle, thy chest heaving, thy limbs awash with sweat.
The gods did raise their voices in great triumph; the lesser powers did bow before thy throne.
Thou wast proclaimed the king of all the deities, the unconquered and the undefeated one.

Yet thou dost love to drink and make merry; thou dost call for Soma wine and quaff it deep.
With your wild companions thou dost feast and revel, making much noise and laughter loud.
No priest can say when Indra last grew sober; thy thirst is great beyond all mortal reckoning.

A thousand times a thousand men have drunk with thee beside the sacred sacrificial fire.
Thou hast led them forth to battle; thou hast granted them the victory and the spoils.
The treasures of the foe have fallen into their hands because thou dost smite the enemy with might.

O Indra, thou art generous beyond measure to those who offer thee their praise and worship.
The singer who doth hymn thy deeds with truth shall find his cattle multiplied and his crops abound.
Thy favour bringeth wealth and sons and daughters; thy blessing leadeth all men into joy.

Yet those who slight thee or forget thy deeds shall find their enemies ascending over them.
The curse of an offended Indra is a terrible thing; his wrath shaketh the very foundations of the world.
So let us ever keep thee in remembrance and make ready our offerings at each sacrifice.

Thou ridest in a chariot drawn by two bay horses, swift as the wind across the sky.
The reins are held in thy strong hands; the wheels do rumble as thou racest forth to war.
No chariot can outpace thee; no foe can flee before thy terrible advance and mighty sound.

The gods do gather round thee when thou summonest them, for thou art first among their number.
They seek thy counsel and thy strength in all their undertakings and their various contests.
So too do we seek thee, O Indra, thou most mighty and most noble of the immortal powers.

I sing to thee this hymn of praise and tell of all thy victories both great and small.
Accept my words as thou dost accept the Soma poured upon the sacred fire at dawn.
Be ever victorious, O Indra; protect us; grant us fortune; lead us unto glory and peace.