national song : vande mataram

here's the national song:

Vande Mataram
Sujalam Suphalam
Malayaja Seetalam
Sasya Shamalaam Mataram
Vande Mataram

Shubra Jyotsnaa
Pulakita Yaminim
Pullakusumita
Drumadala Shobhinim
Subhashinim
Sumadhura Bhashinim
Sukhadaam Varadaam
Mataram
Vande Mataram

Sapta Ko Ti Kan Tha
Kalakalaninaada
Karale Dwisapta Ko Ti Bhujai
Radhr Itakhara Karavaale
Abalaa Keno Maa Eto Bale
Bahubhaladharinim
Namaami Taarinim
Ripudala Varinim
Mataram
Vande Mataram

Tumi Vidyaa, Tumi Dharmaa
Tumi Hridi, Tumi Marma
Tum Hi Pranaah Shariire
Bahute Tumi Maa Shakti
Hridaya Tumi Maa Bhakti
Tomaraa I Pratimaa Gadi
Mandire Mandire

Tvam Hi Durgaa
Dasha Prahara Nadhaarini
Kamala Kamaladala Viharini
Vani Vidhyadayini Namaami Tvam
Namaami Kamalaam,
Amalaam, Atulaam
Sujalaam Suphalaam Mataram
Vande Mataram

Shyamalaam Saralaam
Susmitaam Bhuushitaam
Dharanim Bharanim
Mataram
Vande Mataram

And here is Aurobindo's translation of the song:
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!
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 gleams,
Dark of hue O candid-fair

In thy soul, with jeweled 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!