Sing strength to Indra so he can take his chariot to the front. Giver of space in tight battles, slayer of enemies in the clash of war, be our great supporter. May the weak bows break on the bows of feeble enemies.
You destroyed the Dragon; you sent the rivers down to earth. Foeless, O Indra, you were born. You care for every choice thing. That’s why we draw close to you. May the weak bows break on the bows of feeble enemies.
All malignities and our enemy’s plans be destroyed. Your bolt you cast at the foe, O Indra, who would strike us dead: your generous bounty gives us wealth.
The bandits around us, Indra, who watch and aim at us— Trample them underfoot; you are a conqueror who scatters them.
Whoever attacks us, Indra, be the man a stranger or related, Bring down his strength, even if it’s as vast as the sky.
We cling to your friendship, O Indra, whether we’re dependent on you or not. Lead us beyond all pain and grief along the path of holy Law.
Bestow upon us this, O Indra, who yields according to the singer’s wish, That the great Cow may, with an endless udder, pour out a thousand streams, giving milk to feed us.