SONG-LOVER! like a charioteer come songs to thee when Soma flows.

O Indra, they have called to thee as mother-kine unto their calves.

Bright juices bitherward have sped thee, Indra, Lover of the Song. Drink, Indra, of this flowing sap: in every house ’tis set for thee.

Drink Soma to inspirit thee, juice, Indra, which the Falcon brought: For thou art King and Sovran Lord of all the families of men.

O Indra, hear Tirasci's call, the call of him who serveth thee. Satisfy him with wealth of kine and valiant offspring: Great art thou.

For he, O Indra, hath produced for thee the newest gladdening song, a hymn that springs from careful thought, ancient, and full of sacred truth.

That Indra will we laud whom songs and hymns of praise have magnified. Striving to win, we celebrate his many deeds of hero might.

Come now and let us glorify pure Indra with pure Sāma hymns. Let the pure milky draught delight him strengthened by pure songs of praise.

O Indra, come thou pure to us, with pure assistance, pure thyself. Pure, send thou riches down to us, and, meet for Soma, pure, be glad.

O Indra, pure, vouchsafe us wealth, and, pure, enrich the worshipper. Pure, thou dost strike the VαΉ›tras dead, and strivest, pure, to win the spoil.