Texts

Praise only Indra the bull when (the soma) is pressed, and right now pronounce your solemn recitations— (Jamison and Brereton (2014))

Him, rumbling loudly like a bull, unaging, conquering territory as if (conquering) cow(s); (Jamison and Brereton (2014))

making both: division by hate and unions by love—having it both ways, the most munificent one. (Jamison and Brereton (2014))

For even though these peoples now, every man for himself, call upon you for help, (Jamison and Brereton (2014))

let it be our sacred formulation, Indra, that becomes your strengthening now and throughout all days. (Jamison and Brereton (2014))

O bounteous one, the poetic inspirations, those attentive to poetic inspiration—the ones belonging to the stranger (and those belonging) to (our) peoples—keep crisscrossing each other. (Jamison and Brereton (2014))

Hop to! Bring here (to be) nearest a prize of many forms, for help. (Jamison and Brereton (2014))

Not even for a great exchange gift would I hand you over, you possessor of the stone, (Jamison and Brereton (2014))

not for a thousand, not for ten thousand, you possessor of the mace, not for a hundred, you of a hundred rewards. (Jamison and Brereton (2014))

You are better for me, Indra, than a father and than a brother who benefits not. (Jamison and Brereton (2014))

You and a mother seem to me to be alike, o you who are good for goods and largesse. (Jamison and Brereton (2014))

Where have you gone? Where are you? For surely your mind is in many places. (Jamison and Brereton (2014))

Are you on the rise?—you fighter, creator of tumult, cleaver of strongholds. They have sung forth their songs. (Jamison and Brereton (2014))

Chant forth a song to him who cleaves strongholds for his favorite— (Jamison and Brereton (2014))

(it is songs) because of which the mace-wielder will travel to sit upon the ritual grass of Kāṇva and split fortresses. (Jamison and Brereton (2014))

Those of yours which bring ten cows, which bring a hundred, a thousand, (Jamison and Brereton (2014))

those horses of yours which are swift-running bulls, with these come swiftly to us. (Jamison and Brereton (2014))

Today I summon the juice-yielding (cow), pulsing with excitement from the songs, (Jamison and Brereton (2014))

Indra, the good milker, the lead milk-cow, the broad-streamed refreshment, who gets it right. (Jamison and Brereton (2014))

When he gave a push to Etaśa, (the steed) of the Sun, and to the two far-wandering winged (steeds) of the Wind, (Jamison and Brereton (2014))

he of a hundred resolves conveyed Kutsa, the son of Arjuna. He crept up on the Gandharva, who was not to be laid low. (Jamison and Brereton (2014))

He [=Indra] who, even without a bandage, before (the missile) drills into the collarbones, (Jamison and Brereton (2014))

joins together the join—he, the bounteous one with many goods: he makes what has gone awry right again. (Jamison and Brereton (2014))

May we not be like outsiders, like foreigners to you, Indra. (Jamison and Brereton (2014))

Like trees left behind (by woodcutters), we have considered ourselves poor at burning, you possessor of the stone. (Jamison and Brereton (2014))

Indeed we have considered ourselves neither swift nor strong, you Vr̥ tra-smasher. (Jamison and Brereton (2014))