YE Indra, rich in treasure having nimble hands, accept the sacred food.

Ye Indra, rich in wondrous deeds accept our songs with mighty thought.

O Indra marvellously bright, come, these libations long for thee, thus by fine fingers purified.

Urged by the holy singer, sped by song, come, Indra. Approach, O Indra, hasting thee, Lord of Bay Horses.

In our libation take delight.

Ye Devas, who protect, reward, and cherish men, approach your worshipper's drink-offering.

Ye Devas, swift at work, come hither quickly to the draught.

The Devas, accept the sacred draught.

Wealthy in spoil, enriched with hymns, with eager love, our offering.