Sing forth to him whom many invoke, to him whom many praise.
Invoke the powerful Indra with your songs of praise.
Whose lofty might, for doubly strong, supports the heavens and earth,
And hills and plains and floods and light with manly power.
Such, praised by many! You are the King alone who smites Vṛtras dead,
To gain, O Indra, spoils of war and high renown.
We sing this strong and wild delight of yours that conquers in the fray,
Which, Caster of the Stone! gives room and shines like gold.
With which you also founded lights for Āyu and for Manu's sake:
Now joying in this sacred grass, you shine forth.
This day too, singers of the hymn praise, as of old, this might of yours:
Win thou the waters day by day, thralls of the strong.
That lofty Indra-power of yours, your strength and intelligence,
Your thunderbolt for which we long, the wish makes keen.
O Indra, Heaven and Earth augment your manly power and renown;
The waters and your mountains stir and urge you on.
Viṣṇu the lofty ruling Power, Varuṇa, Mitra sing your praise:
In you the Maruts' company have great delight.
O Indra, you were born the Lord of men, most liberal of your gifts:
Excellent deeds forevermore are all yours.
Ever, alone, O highly-praised, you send Vṛtras to their rest:
None else than Indra executes the mighty deed.
Though here and there, in varied hymns, Indra, men call on you for aid,
Still with our heroes fight and win the light of heaven.
Already have all forms of him entered our spacious dwelling-place:
For victory stir you, Indra, up, the Lord of Might.