The sacred nectar is pressed with milk mixed in; Indra has always enjoyed this. We summon you, Lord of the Bays, with offerings; sing this praise in our joyous celebration of Soma.
They march towards the ritual, scattering the grass; these Soma drinkers gather in council. For hands to grasp, they bring the presses, thundering, famous, strong, waiting for the heroes.
Indra sets free the many waters that were surrounded, Hero, by the Dragon. The rivers roll down, as if on chariots, and all things tremble at your presence, Thunderer.
The God, skilled in all manly deeds, with his weapons masters these foes. In rapturous joy, Indra shakes down their fortresses, slaying them with might, the Thunderer.
No evil spirits have driven us, Indra, nor fiends, O Mightiest God, with their plans. Let our True God subdue the hostile crowd; let not the wicked approach our holy worship.
You surpass Earth and Heaven in your might; the regions cannot contain your greatness. With your own power and might, you slew Vṛtra; no foe has found an end in battle.
Earlier Deities submitted their powers to your supreme dominion. Indra wins wealth and distributes it among others; men call on Indra in battles for plunder.
The humble invokes you for protection, O Indra, Lord of great felicity. With a hundred aids, you have been our helper; one who brings gifts like you has his protector.
May we, O Indra, be your eternal friends, eagerly, Conqueror, offering greater homage. May, through your grace, the strength of those who fight be quelled in the shock of the enemy's advance.
Place us by the food you have given, O Indra, us and the wealthy patrons who command us. Let your great power bring good to him who praises you. May the Gods preserve us evermore with blessings.