Vande Mataram

From Wikisource
Jump to: navigation, search
Vande Mataram  (1909) 
by Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay, translated by Aurobindo Ghose
Vande Mataram is a Bengali-Sanskrit poem from the novel Anandamath (1882) written by Bankim Chandra Chatterjee. The first 2 stanzas of the original full version have the official status as the "National Song" of the Republic of India.

Here is the literal translation of all the stanzas of Vande Mataram by Aurobindo Ghose as appeared in Karmayogin, 20 November, 1909.

Bengali Script English Transcription Translation in PROSE

বন্দে মাতরম্ ৷
সুজলাং সুফলাং
মাতরম্ !

সুহাসিনীং সুমধুরভাষিণীম্
সুখদাং বরদাং মাতরম্ ৷৷

অবলা কেন মা এত বলে !
নমামি তরিণীং
মাতরম্ ৷

তুমি বিদ্যা তুমি ধর্ম্ম
তুমি হৃদি তুমি মর্ম্ম
ত্বং হি প্রাণাঃ শরীরে ৷
বাহুতে তুমি মা শক্তি,
হৃদয়ে তুমি মা ভক্তি,
তোমারই প্রতিমা গড়ি মন্দিরে মন্দিরে ৷

ত্বং হি দুর্গা দশপ্রহরণধারিণী
কমলা কমল-দলবিহারিণী
বাণী বিদ্যাদায়িণী
নমামি ত্বাং
নমামি কমলাম্
অমলাং অতুলাম্,
সুজলাং সুফলাং

বন্দে মাতরম্
শ্যামলাং সরলাং
সুস্মিতাং ভূষিতাম্
ধরণীং ভরণীম্
মাতরম্ ৷

vande maataram
sujalaam suphalaam
maataram !

shubhra jyotsnaa pulakita yaamineem
phullakusumita drumadalashobhineem,
suhaasineem sumadhurabhaashineem
sukhadaam varadaam maataram.

saptakoteekantha kala-kala ninaadkaraale
dwisaptakotibhujai dhrit kharkarbaale,
abalaa keno maa eto bale!
namaami taarineem

tumi vidyaa tumi dharma
tumi hridi tumi marma
tvam hi praanaah shareere.
baahute tumi maa shakti,
hridaye tumi maa bhakti,
tomaari pratimaa gadi mandire mandire.

tvam hi durgaa dashapraharanadhaarinee
kamalaa kamala dalabihaarinee
vaanee vidyaadaayinee
namaami tvaam
namaami kamalaam
amalaam atulaam,
sujalaam sufalaam

vande maataram
shyamalam saralam
susmitam bhushitam
dharaneem bharaneem

I bow to thee, Mother,
richly-watered, richly-fruited,
cool with the winds of the south,
dark with the crops of the harvests,
The Mother!

Her nights rejoicing in the glory of the moonlight,
her lands clothed beautifully with her trees in flowering bloom,
sweet of laughter, sweet of speech,
The Mother, giver of boons, giver of bliss!

Terrible with the clamorous shouts of seventy million throats,
and the sharpness of swords raised in twice seventy million hands,
who sayeth to thee, Mother, that thou are weak?
Holder of multitudinous strength,
I bow to her who saves,
to her who drives from her the armies of her foes,
The Mother!

Thou art knowledge, thou art conduct,
thou art heart, thou art soul,
for thou art the life in our body.
In the arm, thou art might, O Mother,
in the heart, O Mother, thou art love and faith,
it is thy image we raise in every temple.

For thou art Durga holding her ten weapons of war,
Kamala at play in the lotuses
And speech, the goddess, giver of all lore,
to thee I bow!
I bow to thee, goddess of wealth
pure and peerless,
richly-watered, richly-fruited,
The Mother!

I bow to thee, Mother,
dark-hued, candid,
sweetly smiling, jeweled and adorned,
the holder of wealth, the lady of plenty,
The Mother!

Translation in VERSE form by Shri Aurobindo[edit]

Apart from the above literal translation, Shri Aurobindo Ghose was inspired to translate the poem Vande Mataram into a verse form in English, titled as Mother, I Bow to Thee.

Sri Aurobindo commented thus on his English translation of the poem:

"It is difficult to translate the National Song Of India into verse in another language owing to its unique union of sweetness, simple directness and high poetic force."

Mother, I Bow to Thee !

Mother, I bow to 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 bow.

Who hath said thou art weak in thy lands,
When the sword flesh out in the 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 foe man 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 gleams,
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!