Come, Indra, with your bay horses, joyful, with tails like peacocks' feathers. Let no one hinder you, like hunters stop a bird: pass over them as over deserts.
He who killed Vṛtra, broke through the clouds, shattered the strongholds, drove back the floods, Indra who rides his chariot at your bay horses' cry, shatters even things that stand most firm.
Like pools of water deep and full, like cows you cherish your might; Like the guarded milch-cows that go to the mead, like water brooks that reach the lake.
Bring us wealth with power to strike, our share, against him who calls it his. Shake, Indra, like with hooks, the tree for ripe fruit, for wealth to satisfy our desire.
Indra, ruler of yourself, best leader, of most glorious fame. So, grow strong in your might, O one praised by many, be swift to hear our call.