Come to the juice we've pressed, O Soma, Indra, with milk as well:
Come, favoring us, your chariot drawn by horses!
Come, Indra, to this sweet drink placed on the grass, pressed out with stones:
Will you not drink your fill of it?
To Indra have I sung praises, sent swiftly here,
To draw him to the Soma drink.
We call out to you, Indra, with praises, to drink the Soma juice:
Will you not come to us with lauds?
Indra, these Somas have been released. Take them into your belly, Lord
Of a hundred powers, Prince of wealth.
We know you as the victor over spoils and warriors, Sage!
Therefore we beseech your blessings.
Borne by your horses, drink, Indra, this juice we've pressed,
Mixed with barley and milk.
For you, Indra, in your own place, I urge the Soma for your drink:
Let it remain deep in your heart,
We call upon you, Ancient One, Indra, to drink the Soma juice,
We Kusikas seeking your help.