WHEN shall our meditations rest in thy car beside thee? When dost thou give the singer food for thousands? When wilt thou clothe this poet's laud with plenty, and when wilt thou enrich our hymns with booty?
When wilt thou gatber men with men, O Indra, heroes with heroes, and prevail in combat? Thou shalt win triply kine in frays for cattle, so, Indra, give thou us celestial glory.
Yea, when wilt thou, O Indra, thou Most Mighty, make the prayer all-sustaining for the singer? When wilt thou yoke, as we yoke songs, thy Horses, and come to offerings that bring wealth in cattle?
Grant to the Singer food with store of cattle, splendid with horses and the fame of riches.
Send food to swell the milch-cow good at milking: bright be its shine among the Bharadvฤjas.
Lead otherwise this present foeman, Indra! Hence art thou praised as Hero, foe destroyer Him who gives pure gift. May I praise unceasing. Sage, quicken the Aแน girases by devotion.