Vande Mataram

1. I revere the Mother ! The Mother
Rich in waters, rich in fruit,
Cooled by the southern airs,
Verdant with the harvest fair.

2. The Mother - with nights that thrill in the light of the moon,
Radiant with foliage and flowers in bloom,
Smiling sweetly, speaking gently,
Giving joy and gifts in plenty.

3. Powerless ? How so, Mother,
With the strength of voices fell,
Seventy millions in their swell !
And with sharpened swords
By twice as many hands upheld !

4. To the Mother I bow low,
To her who wields so great a force,
To her who saves,
And drives away the hostile hordes.

5. You our wisdom, your our law,
You our heart, you our core,
In our bodies the living force is thine.

6. Mother, you're our strength of arm,
And in our hearts the loving balm,
Yours the form we shape in every shrine.

7. For your are Durga, bearer of the ten-fold power,
And wealth's Goddess, dallying on the lotus-flower,
You are Speech, to you I bow,
To us wisdom you endow.

8. I bow to the Goddess Fair,
Rich in waters, rich in fruit,
To the Mother,
Spotless - and beyond compare !

9. I revere the Mother ! the Mother !
Darkly green and also true,
Richly dressed, of joyous face,
This ever-plenteous land of grace.

..........................................................................................................................
Extract from the AnandaMath - The Sacred Brotherhood by Bankimchandra Chatterjee - translated by Julius Lipner