LIGHTLY your coursers travel through the regions when round the sea of air your car is flying.

Your golden fellies scatter drops of moisture: drinking the sweetness ye attend the Mornings.

Ye as ye travel overtake the Courser who flies apart, the Friend of man, most holy. May convey you to support and strengthen.

Ye have deposited in the raw cow the first milk of the milch-cow. Which the bright offerer presents to you.

Ye made the fierce heat to be full of sweetness, like streaming water. Fire-offering thence is yours, O Indra. Heroes: your car-wheels speed to us like springs of honey.

May I, ye Mighty, bring you to give your gifts with milk-oblations. Your greatness compasseth Earth. Heaven, and Waters, ye Holy.

When, Bounteous Ones, ye drive your yoked team downward, ye send, by your own natures, understanding. Swift as the wind let the prince please and feast you.

For verily we truthful singers praise you the niggard trafficker is here excluded. Now, even now do ye O blameless Indra, ye Mighty, guard the man whose Deva is near him.

You of a truth day after day, O Indra, that he might win the very plenteous torrent famous among mortal heroes, roused with a thousand lauds like sounds of music.

When with the glory of your car ye travel, when we go speeding like the Monk of mortals. May we gain our share of riches.

With songs of praise we call to-day, O Indra, that your new chariot, for our own well-being, that circles Heaven with never-injured fellies. May we find strengthening food in full abundance.