Vande Mataram

"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!
“