O Soma drinker, ever true, though hopeless we may be, Do thou, O Indra, grant us hope of beautiful horses and cattle, In thousands, O richest one.
O Strength’s lord, whose jaws are strong, great deeds you do, mighty one: Do thou, O Indra, grant us hope of beautiful horses and cattle, In thousands, O richest one.
Let those who gaze upon each other fall asleep, never to wake again: Do thou, O Indra, grant us hope of beautiful horses and cattle, In thousands, O richest one.
Make all enemies sleep, and make gentle spirits wake: Do thou, O Indra, grant us hope of beautiful horses and cattle, In thousands, O richest one.
Crush this donkey, Indra, that brays dissonantly to you: Do thou, O Indra, grant us hope of beautiful horses and cattle, In thousands, O richest one.
Let the storm fall far in forests, circling in its course: Do thou, O Indra, grant us hope of beautiful horses and cattle, In thousands, O richest one.
Slay each slanderer, and destroy the one who secretly harms us: Do thou, O Indra, grant us hope of beautiful horses and cattle, In thousands, O richest one.