With hundreds you struck down the foe, Indra, ten times with your rays, like a poet with the sun. With blows of your dry and scorching might, with draughts and mantras, what did you not accomplish?

The Paṇis, Indra, fled, with hundres (of asuras), from the sage, your worshipper (and ally) in battle; neither did e, (Indra), suffer the deceptions of the powerful Śuṣṇa to prevail over his weapons, nor did he (leave him) any of his sustenance.

There, Indra, while the light was won, the Panis f1ed, 'neath a hundred blows, for wise Dasoni, And greedy Susna's magical devices nor left he any of their food remaining.