Invoke the Soma drink, come with your bay steeds, Thunder-armed one Come, Indra, hitherward to me.
Our priest is seated, true to time; the grass is regularly strewn; The pressing-stones were set at dawn.
These prayers, O you who hear prayer, are offered to you: sit on the grass. Hero, enjoy the offered cake.
O Vṛtra-slayer, may you be pleased with these libations, with these hymns, Song-loving Indra, with our praises.
Our hymns caress the Lord of Strength, vast, drinker of the Soma’s juice, Indra, as mother-cows their calf.
Delight you with the juice we pour for your great generosity: Do not yield your singer to blame.
We, Indra, dearly love you, offering sacrifice, sing to you You, Vasu, dearly love us.
You to whom your bays are dear, do not let your horses stray from us: Here, Indra, divine lord, may you be pleased.
May long-maned coursers, dripping oil, bring you swiftly to this car, Indra, to seat you on the grass.