1Like kine unmilked we call aloud, hero, to thee, and sing thy praise, Looker on heavenly light, Lord of this moving world, Lord, Indra, of what moveth not!

2That we may win us wealth and power we poets, verily, call on thee: In war men call on thee, Indra, the hero's Lord, in the steed's race-course call on thee:

3To you will I sing Indra's praise who gives good gifts as well we know; The praise of Maghavan who, rich in treasure, aids his singers with wealth thousandfold.

4As cows low to their calves in stalls, so with our songs we glorify This Indra, even your wondrous God who checks attack, who takes delight in precious juice.

5Loud singing at the sacred rite where Soma flows we priests invoke With haste, that he may help, as the bard's cherisher, Indra who findeth wealth for you

6With Plenty for his true ally the active man will gain the spoil. Your Indra, much-invoked, I bend with song, as bends a wright his wheel of solid wood.

7Drink, Indra, of the savoury juice, and cheer thee with our milky draught! Be, for our weal, our friend and sharer of the feast, and let thy wisdom guard us well!

8For thou--come to the worshipper!--wilt find great wealth to make us rich. Fill thyself full, O Maghavan, for gain of kine, full, Indra, for the gain of steeds!

9Vasishtha will not overlook the lowliest one among you all Beside our Soma juice effused to-day let all the Maruts drink with eager haste!

10Glorify naught besides, O friends; so shall no sorrow trouble you! Praise only mighty Indra when the juice is shed, and say your lauds repeatedly!