For here, like flies on honey, these who pray to thee sit by the juice that they have poured. Wealth-craving singers have on Indra set their hope, as men set foot upon a car.
These Soma juices, mixed with curd, have been expressed for Indra here. Come with thy Bay Steeds, Thunder-wielder, to our home, to drink them till they make thee glad.
May he whose ear is open hear us. He is asked for wealth: will he despise our prayer? Him who bestows at once a hundred thousand gifts none shall restrain when he would give.
The hero never checked by men hath gained his strength through Indra, he Who presses out and pours his deep libations forth, O Vṛtra-slayer, unto thee.
When thou dost drive the fighting men together be, thou Mighty One, the mighty's shield. May we divide the wealth of him whom thou hast slain: bring us, Unreachable, his goods.
For Indra, Soma-drinker, armed with thunder, press the Soma juice. Make ready your dressed meats: cause him to favour us. The Giver blesses him who gives.
Grudge not, ye Soma pourers; stir you, pay the rites, for wealth, to the great Conqueror. Only the active conquers dwells in peace, and thrives: not for the niggard are the Gods.
Indra, that man when fighting shall obtain the spoil, whose strong defender thou wilt be. Be thou the gracious helper, Hero I of our cars, be thou the helper of our men.
Make for the Holy Gods a hymn that is not mean, but well-arranged and fair of form. Even many snares and bonds subdue not him who dwells with Indra through his sacrifice.
Indra, what mortal will attack the man who hath his wealth in thee? The strong will win the spoil on the decisive day through faith in thee, O Maghavan.
In battles with the foe urge on our mighty ones who give the treasures dear to thee, And may we with our princes, Lord of Tawny Steeds! pass through all peril, led by thee.
Thou art renowned as giving wealth to every one in all the battles that are fought. Craving protection, all these people of the earth, O Much-invoked, implore thy name.
Each day would I enrich the man who sang my praise, in whatsoever place he were. No kinship is there better, Maghavan, than thine: a father even is no more.
With 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.
A moral wins no riches by unworthy praise: wealth comes not to the niggard churl. Light is the task to give, O Maghavan, to one like me on the decisive day.
Like 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.
None other like to thee, of earth or of the heavens, hath been or ever will be born. Desiring horses, Indra Maghavan! and kine, as men of might we call on thee.
Bring, Indra, the Victorious Ones; bring, elder thou, the younger host. For, Maghavan, thou art rich in treasures from of old, and must be called in every fight.
Drive thou away our enemies, O Maghavan: make riches easy to be won. Be thou our good Protector in the strife for spoil: Cherisher of our friends be thou.
Grant that no mighty foes, unknown, malevolent, unhallowed, tread us to the ground. With thine assistance, Hero, may we ass through all the waters that are rul`ng down.