Even the vast expanse of heaven and the solid ground cannot match Indra in greatness. Terrible and exceedingly powerful, he inflicts suffering on men, sharpening his thunderbolt like a bull.
Like the ocean that swallows all rivers, he receives them all in its boundless width, carrying them like a bull to drink Soma. As a warrior from ancient times, he will be praised for his might, the foremost among the gods, the Strong One, for every difficult deed.
You rule, Indra, all kinds of great manly power, bending even that famous mountain down. Among the gods, you are foremost through your heroic might, standing at the head, the Strong One, for every arduous task.
Praised by worshippers in the forest, you show forth your Indra-power, a friendly bull, a bull to be desired when Maghavan speaks auspiciously.
Yet indeed, the Warrior in his vigorous strength stirs up great battles for mankind; men trust in Indra, the radiant One, when he throws down his bolt, his death-dealing weapon.
Though eager for glory and with increased strength on earth, he with great might destroys the dwellings made with skill, He makes the lights of heaven shine securely, he bids the floods flow for his worshipper, exceeding wise.
Drinker of Soma, may your heart incline to give; bring your Bays hither, O you who hear praise. Those charioteers of yours, best skilled to draw the reins, the swift sunbeams, Indra, lead not astray.
You carry in both hands treasure that never fails; the famed One in his body holds unvanquished might. O Indra, in your members many powers abide, like wells surrounded by the ministering priests.