1 GLAD thee: thy glory hath been quaffed, Lord of Bay Steeds, as ’twere the bowl's enlivening mead. For thee the Strong there is strong drink, mighty, omnipotent to win. 2 Let our strong drink, most excellent, exhilarating, come to thee, Victorious, Indra! bringing gain, immortal conquering in fight, 3 Thou, Hero, winner of the spoil, urgest to speed the car of man. Burn, like a vessel with the flame, the lawless Dasyu, Conqueror! 4 Empowered by thine own might, O Sage, thou stolest Sūrya's chariot wheel. Thou barest Kutsa with the steeds of Wind to Śuṣṇa as his death. 5 Most mighty is thy rapturous joy, most splendid is thine active power, Wherewith, foe-slaying, sending bliss, thou art supreme in gaining steeds. 6 As thou, O Indra, to the ancient singers wast ever joy, as water to the thirsty, So unto thee I sing this invocation. May we find strengthening food in full abundance.