a Never art thou barren, O Indra, Never dost thou fail thy worshipper; Now more and more is thy divine gift increased, O bountiful one. b Thou art taken with a support; to the Adityas thee! c At no time art thou heedless, But dost guard the two generations; The pressing is thy strength, O fourth Aditya The ambrosia is ready in the sky. d The sacrificer seeketh the favour of the gods; Be ye kindly, O Adityas; May thy lovingkindness come hither, That it may the more free us from affliction. e O bright Aditya, this is thy Soma drink, Delight in it, have gladness in it; may we that gladden thee have gladness; With the rain of the sky I mix thee.