To you, my own, the best among the good, I offer praise, like an offering in the flame. We invoke for your aid, Indra, untouched by age, who makes all decay stop, making you ever young.
Without you, nothing exists, Indra, the lofty one; in you alone are combined all heroic powers. The Soma is within you, vast with strength, the thunder in your hand and wisdom in your head.
No power surpasses yours across both worlds, nor can your chariot be stopped by mountains or seas. None comes close, O Indra, to your bolt, when with swift horses you fly over many leagues.
All men submit to you, the Resolute, the Holy One, the Strong, clinging to you. Offer worship with oblations, strong and wise. Drink the Soma, Indra, through the mighty blaze.
The vessel of strength flows out, the mead flood, to the Strong who drinks the strong, for sustenance. Strong are the two Adhvaryus, strong are both the stones. They press the strong Soma for the Strong.
Strong is your thunderbolt, and so is your chariot; strong are your Bay Steeds and your powerful weapons. You, Indra, Bull, are Lord of the strong drink, with the strong Soma, Indra, fill yourself.
Bold by prayer, I come near you in your sacred rites, like a saving ship, shouting in the war. Verily, he will hear and mark this word, we will pour Indra forth as a spring of wealth.
Turn to us before calamity draws near, as a cow turns to her calf. Lord of a hundred powers, may we firmly hold to your fair favors, as husbands do to their wives.
Let that wealthy Cow of yours, O Indra, give back a boon to him who praises you. Give to your praisers, let not fortune fail. Loudly shall we speak, with heroes, in assembly.