The cows have arrived and brought good luck; let them rest in the pen and be happy near us. Here, let them stay abundant, multicolored, and yield milk for Indra through many days.
Indra helps those who offer sacrifices and gifts; he takes not what is his, but gives more in return. His wealth increases ever more, making the pious dwell within unbroken bounds.
These cows are never lost, no bandit ever harms them; no evil-minded foe tries to harass them. The master of the cows lives many years with them, the cows by which he pours his gifts and serves the gods.
The horse with its dusty brow cannot catch them, and they never go to the slaughterhouse. These cows, the cattle of the devout worshipper, roam over vast pastures where no danger is.
To me, the cows seem Bhaga, they seem Indra, they seem a portion of the first-poured Soma. These present cows, oh Indra, I long for Indra with my heart and spirit.
O cows, you fatten even the worn and wasted, and make the unattractive beautiful to look upon. May prosperity be in my house, you with auspicious voices. Your power is glorified in our gatherings.
Provide good pasture and be prolific, drink pure sweet water at good watering places. Never be thief or sinful man, and may the dart of Rudra still avoid you.
Now let this close mixture be mixed closely with these cows, Mixed with the steed’s prolific flow, and, Indra, with your heroic might.