vande mataram

वन्दे मातरम्
सुजलां सुफलाम्
मलयजशीतलाम्
शस्यशामलाम्
मातरम्।

शुभ्रज्योत्स्नापुलकितयामिनीम्
फुल्लकुसुमितद्रुमदलशोभिनीम्
सुहासिनीं सुमधुर भाषिणीम्
सुखदां वरदां मातरम्।। १।। वन्दे मातरम्।

सप्त^[5]-कोटि-कण्ठ-कल-कल-निनाद-कराले
dwisaptकोटि-भुजैर्धृत-खरकरवाले,
अबला केन मा एत बले।
बहुबलधारिणीं नमामि तारिणीं
रिपुदलवारिणीं मातरम्।। २।।
वन्दे मातरम्।

तुमि विद्या, तुमि धर्म
तुमि हृदि, तुमि मर्म
त्वम् हि प्राणा: शरीरे
बाहुते तुमि मा शक्ति,
हृदये तुमि मा भक्ति,
तोमारई प्रतिमा गडि
मन्दिरे-मन्दिरे

त्वम् हि दुर्गा दशप्रहरणधारिणी
कमला कमलदलविहारिणी
वाणी विद्यादायिनी,
नमामि त्वाम्
नमामि कमलाम्
अमलां अतुलाम्
सुजलां सुफलाम् मातरम्।। ४।।
वन्दे मातरम्।

श्यामलाम् सरलाम्
सुस्मिताम् भूषिताम्
धरणीं भरणीं मातरम्।। ५।।
वन्दे मातरम्।।




Here is the translation in prose of the above two stanzas rendered by Aurobindo Ghose. This has also been adopted by the Government of India's national portal.^[2] The original Vande Mataram consists of six stanzas and the translation in prose for the complete poem by Shri Aurobindo appeared in Karmayogin, 20 November 1909.^[6]

Mother, I salute thee!
Rich with thy hurrying streams,
bright with orchard gleams,
Cool with thy winds of delight,
Dark fields waving Mother of might,
Mother free.

Glory of moonlight dreams,
Over thy branches and lordly streams,
Clad in thy blossoming trees,
Mother, giver of ease
Laughing low and sweet!
Mother I kiss thy feet,
Speaker sweet and low!
Mother, to thee I salute.

Who hath said thou art weak in thy lands
When the swords flash out in seventy million hands
And seventy million voices roar
Thy dreadful name from shore to shore?
With many strengths who art mighty and stored,
To thee I call Mother and Lord!
Though who savest, arise and save!
To her I cry who ever her foeman drove
Back from plain and Sea
And shook herself free.

Thou art wisdom, thou art law,
Thou art heart, our soul, our breath
Though art love divine, the awe
In our hearts that conquers death.
Thine the strength that nerves the arm,
Thine the beauty, thine the charm.
Every image made divine
In our temples is but thine.

Thou art Durga, Lady and Queen,
With her hands that strike and her
swords of sheen,
Thou art Lakshmi lotus-throned,
And the Muse a hundred-toned,
Pure and perfect without peer,
Mother lend thine ear,
Rich with thy hurrying streams,
Bright with thy orchard gleems,
Dark of hue O candid-fair

In thy soul, with bejeweled hair
And thy glorious smile divine,
Loveliest of all earthly lands,
Showering wealth from well-stored hands!
Mother, mother mine!
Mother sweet, I salute thee,
Mother great and free!