Geet Ganga

vande maataram, vande maataram..

sujalaam sufalaam malayaj sheetalaam
sasyashyaamalaam maataram ... vande..

shubhrajyotsna pulakit yaaminiim
phulla kusumita drumadal shobhiniim
suhaasinim sumadhura bhaashhinim
sukhadaam varadaam maataram.. vande maataram

sapta koti kantha kalakala ninaada karaale
nisapta koti bhujaidhruta kharakarvaale
sapta koti kantha kalakala ninaada karaale
nisapta koti bhujaidhruta kharakarvaale
ka bola ka noma eith bole
bahubal dhaariniin namaami taariniim
ripudalavaariniin maataram
vande maataram ...

tumi vidyaa tumi dharma, tumi hridi tumi marma
tvan hi praanaah shariire
baahute tumi maa shakti,
hridaye tumi maa bhakti,
tomaarai pratimaa gadi mandire mandire
vande maataram..

tvan hi durgaa dashapraharanadhaarinii
kamalaa kamaladala vihaarinii
vaanii vidyaadaayinii, namaami tvaam
namaami kamalaan amalaan atulaam
sujalaan sufalaan maataram
vande maataram..

shyaamalaan saralaan susmitaan bhuushhitaam
dharaniin bharaniin maataram
vande maataram....

Translation

Mother, I salute thee!
Rich with thy hurrying streams,
bright with orchard gleams,
Cool with thy winds of delight,
Green 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 bow.

Who hath said thou art weak in thy lands
When 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!
Thou who saves, arise and save!
To her I cry who ever her foe 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 jewelled hair
And thy glorious smile divine,
Loveliest of all earthly lands,
Showering wealth from well-stored hands!
Mother, mother mine!
Mother sweet, I bow to thee,
Mother great and free!