PRAISE Indra, whose songs we must sing, the sole Sovereign of mankind, the chief.
In him, the praises delight, and all the songs that bring glory. Like the rivers longing for the sea.
I invoke him with praise, the best king, effective in battle, Strong for the gain of great spoils.
Whose perfect ecstasies are vast, profound, victorious, and bring joy in the fields where heroes win.
When war spoils are at stake, men call on him as their advocate: those who win Indra win the day.
Men honor him with stirring songs and solemn rites: Indra gives victory.
Indra is priest and Rishi, much invoked by many men, And mighty by his powerful might.
Meet to be praised and invoked, true Hero with his deeds of might, Victorious even when alone.
The people, the masses, sing out Indra with their songs, With hymns and sacred eulogies.
Him who brings them wealth, sends light to guide them in war, And crushes their foes in battle.
May he, the much-invoked savior, Indra carry us safely Beyond all enemies in a ship.
As such, O Indra, honor us with booty, lead us forward, To felicity.