Indra, the singers sing high praise, Indra, the reciters chant their songs, Indra, the choirs have glorified.
Indra has always close by his two swift horses and chariot yoked, Indra, golden, armed with thunder.
Indra raises the Sun high in the sky so he can see far off, He bursts mountains to let the cattle pass.
Help us, O Indra, in battles, in battles where many prizes are won, With awesome aid, O awesome One.
In great battles we invoke Indra, Indra in small fights too, The friend who turns his arrow at foes.
Open, our brave Hero, you who are ever generous up there, For us, you unyielding one.
Higher still, with each line I sing, Indra's praises rise with thunder, I find no words worthy of him.
As a bull drives the herd, he leads the people with his might, The Ruler, unstoppable:
Indra who rules with single rule over men, wealth, and the five races, Of those who live on Earth.
For your sake, from all sides we call Indra away from others, Ours, and none others', may he be.