May Indra come to us, the one who rightly distributes treasures from his wealth. Just as a parched cow that wanders through the desert might eagerly drink the milked Soma.
Lord of the Golden Horses, Hero, may the Soma rise to your cheeks and jawline like mountains. May we, O King, as one who drives horses, all rejoice in you with hymns, invoked by many!
Invoked by many, my heart trembles like a rolling wheel at the thought of poverty. Will not Puruvasu the singer praise you, O prosperous Maghavan, riding on your chariot?
Like a press stone, this is your praiser, Indra. He loudly raises his voice with great effort. With your left hand, O Maghavan, give us wealth; with your right, Lord of the Golden Horses, do not hesitate.
May the strong sky make you even stronger, Indra. You are strong, borne by your two strong Golden Horses. So, fair of face, with a mighty chariot, mighty, uphold us, strong-willed, thunder-armed, in battle.
Maruts, let all the people bow down in reverence before this youthful Srutaratha, Who, rich in horses, gave me two dark red horses along with three hundred cattle.