In perfect harmony, all hymns sing Indra’s glory; like brides embrace their lords, the comely bridegrooms, they surround Maghavan to aid him.
My spirit never strays, directed to you, O Much-invoked! You sit, Wonderful, as King upon the sacred grass, and may your drinking-place be by the Soma juice.
From want and hunger, Indra turns away; Maghavan rules over precious wealth. The Seven Rivers, flowing down, augment the vital strength of the potent Steer.
Like birds resting on a fair-leafed tree, Indra receives the gladdening Soma juices that fill the bowls. His face, glowing with power, shines with the light of heaven for man, the Aryas’ light.
As a gambler piles up his winnings, Maghavan, sweeping all together, gained the Sun. This mighty deed of yours no one else could achieve, no one before you, no one in recent times.
Maghavan came to each tribe, and the Steer listened to the people’s songs of praise. The man whose libations Śakra delights, by potent Somas vanquishes his foes.
When Soma flows together to Indra like rivers to the river, rivulets to the lake, sages exalt his might, as the rain swells the corn by heaven’s moisture.
He rushes through the region like a furious Bull, making these floods the dams of worthy lords. This Maghavan finds light for the man who offers oblations, sheds the juice, and promptly pours his gifts.
Let the keen axe come forth with the light; here be, as erst, the teeming cow of sacrifice. Let the Red God shine bright with his radiant beam, and let the Lord of heroes glow like heaven’s clear sheen.
O Much-invoked, may we subdue all famine and evil want with store of grain and cattle. May we, allied as first in rank, with princes, obtain possessions by our own exertion.
Bṛhaspati protect us from the rearward, and from above, and from below, from sinners. May Indra from the front, and from the center, as Friend to friends, vouchsafe us room and freedom.