Flow, you who behold men, to grant them pleasure and to please the gods,
Indu, to Indra for his drink.
Stream to your embassy for us; you hasten for Indra to the gods, oh better than our friends.
We anoint you, red in hue, with milk to prepare you for the ecstatic joy;
Open for us the doors of wealth.
He has passed through the sieve, like a swift horse to the pole, to run;
All friends have praised him as he dances in the woods, beyond the fleece.
Singers have sung Indu’s praises.
Flow, Indu, in that stream in which you proclaim to the man
Who worships you, his heroic strength.