Hymns of the Atharva Veda, by Ralph T.H. Griffith, [1895], at sacred-texts.com
1I think of Indra, only him for ever, fiend-slayer, May these lauds
of mine come near him.
He cometh to the pious offerer's calling. May he deliver us from
grief and trouble.
2Who with strong arms o'ercame his strong opponents, who
broke and crushed the power of the demons,
Who won the rivers and the kine in battle. May he deliver us
from grief and trouble.
3Ruler of men, finder of light, the hero: the pressing-stones
declare his valour, master.
Of sweetest sacrifice with seven Hotars. May he deliver us from
grief and trouble.
4The lord of barren cows and bulls and oxen, finder of light for
whom the posts are planted,
For whom the bright juice flows cleansed by devotion. May he
deliver us from grief and trouble.
5Whose favour those desire who offer Soma, whom, arrow-bearer,
men invoke in battle,
On whom the hymn depends, in whom is power, May he deliver
us from grief and trouble.
6Why was born, first, for active operation, whose valour as the
first hath been awakened,
Who raised his bolt when he encountered Ahi. May he deliver us
from grief and trouble.
7Strong Lord, who leadeth hosts to meet for battle, who sendeth
riches both of earth and heaven,
I, suppliant, praise and ever call on Indra. May he deliver us
from grief and trouble.