He who is our everlasting front, the ancient path-maker, protector of the ritual offerings—O Indra, do not neglect.

O you, the invulnerable, who have always in former times protected us for the battle, do you, Indra,make us happy.

Thou roaming yonder, little man, beholding every house in turn, Drink thou this Soma pressed with teeth, accompanied with grain and curds, with cake of meal and song of praise.