Boundless and never-ending, the heavenly food of gods goes to the invincible One, the doer of marvelous deeds. Press it out, prepare, offer gifts with great enthusiasm to him whom many praise, accepter of prayers.
He who filled his belly with soma's juice, Maghavan, was delighted by the mead's sweet draught, When Uśanā, to slay the monstrous beast, gave him the mighty weapon with a thousand points.
Great is the man who presses out soma in the sun or in the clouds and rain. The mighty Maghavan, friend of sages, advances more and more his beautiful offspring.
The Strong One does not flee from him whose father, mother, or brother he has slain. He, the avenger, seeks this man's offerings; this God, the source of riches, does not flee from sin.
He seeks no enterprise with five or ten to aid, nor stays with him who doesn't pour the juice though prosperous. The Shaker conquers or kills in this way or that, and to the pious gives a stable full of cattle.
Exceedingly strong in war, he stays the chariot wheel, and hates him who doesn't pour, prospers him who does. Indra, the terrible, tamer of every man, as Arya leads away the Dāsa at his will.
He gathers all the miser's wealth for plunder, excellent wealth he gives to him who offers gifts. Not even in a wide stronghold can all the folk stand firm who provoke his surpassing might.
When Indra Maghavan marks two wealthy men fighting over beautiful cows with all their followers, He who stirs all things takes one as his close ally, and, Shaker, with his heroes, sends the cattle to him.
Agni! I praise the generous Agnivesi, Satri, the type and standard of the pious. May the collected waters yield him plenty, and his power and brightness be his dominion.