Page– 312
Bande Mataram
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 shout of seventy million throats,
And the
sharpness of swords raised in twice seventy million hands,
Who sayeth to
thee, Mother, that thou art weak ?
Holder of
multitudinous strength,
I bow to her who
saves,
to her who
drives from her the armies of her foemen,
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, 0 Mother,
in the heart, 0
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!
Page– 313