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“वंदे मातरम” भारत के राष्ट्रीय गीत (National song) हवे। ई बंकिमचंद्र चट्टोपाध्याय के परसिद्ध उपन्यास आनंदमठ में मौजूद गीत के हिस्सा हवे।
बोंदे मातरॉम् (बंगाली उच्चारण) | |
गीतकार | बंकिमचंद्र चट्टोपाध्याय, आनंदमठ (1882) |
---|---|
संगीत | जदुनाथ भट्टाचार्य |
अंगीकार | 24 जनवरी 1950 |
राष्ट्रीय गीत के रूप में अंगीकार कइल दू गो बंद नीचा दिहल गइल बाड़ें:
बंगला लिपि में[1] | रोमनाइजेशन | देवनागरी लिपि में | नेशनल लाइब्रेरी कलकत्ता के ट्रांस्लिटरेशन[2][3] |
---|---|---|---|
বন্দে মাতরম্৷ |
bônde matôrôm |
वन्दे मातरम्। |
vande mātaram |
Here are the rest of the original lyrics from which the National Song of India came (continuing from the last section):[4]
बंगला लिपि में | देवनागरी लिपि में |
---|---|
|
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.[5]
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!
Thou 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
Thou 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!
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