jai bharati vande bharati
sar pe himalay ka chhtr hai
charno me nadiya ekatr hai
hathon me vedo ke patr hai
he desh nahi aisa anytr
sar pe himalay ka chhtr hai
charno me nadiya ekatr hai
hathon me vedo ke patr hai
desh nahi aisa anytr hai
jai bharati vande bharati
jai bharati vande bharati

dhue se pawan ye vyom hai
ghar ghar me hota jaha hom hai
dhue se pawan ye vyom hai
ghar ghar me hota jaha hom hai
pulkit hamare rom rom hai
pulkit hamare rom rom hai
he aadi anadi shabd om hai
jai bharati vande bharati
jai bharati vande bharati
vande matram, vande matram
jai bharati vande bharati
jai bharati vande bharati
vande matram, vande matram

jis bhumi pe janm liay ram ne
geeta sunayi jaha shyaam ne
o geeta sunayi jaha shyaam ne
pawan banaya charo dhaam ne
pawan banaya charo dhaam ne
swarg bhi na aaye jiske samne
vande matram, vande matram
vande matram, vande matram
sar pe himalay ka chhtr hai
charno me nadiya ekatr hai
hathon me vedo ke patr hai
he desh nahi aisa anytr
jai bharati vande bharati
jai bharati vande bharati
vande matram, vande matram
jai bharati vande bharati
jai bharati vande bharati
vande matram, vande matram

Hail, India, I bow to India.
On her head, the Himalayan crown,
At her feet, rivers gather down.
In her hands, the Vedas' sacred scroll,
Behold, no other land can be her whole.
On her head, the Himalayan crown,
At her feet, rivers gather down.
In her hands, the Vedas' sacred scroll,
Behold, no other land can be her whole.
Hail, India, I bow to India.
Hail, India, I bow to India.

With smoke, the winds of heaven are filled,
In every home, the sacred fire willed.
With smoke, the winds of heaven are filled,
In every home, the sacred fire willed.
Our every pore with joy is thrilled,
Our every pore with joy is thrilled,
From the first, the primal sound, Om instilled.
Hail, India, I bow to India.
Hail, India, I bow to India.
I bow to you, Mother, I bow to you.
Hail, India, I bow to India.
Hail, India, I bow to India.
I bow to you, Mother, I bow to you.

The land where Rama took his birth,
Where Krishna sang the Gita's worth.
Oh, Krishna sang the Gita's worth.
Where four abodes sanctified the earth,
Where four abodes sanctified the earth,
Even paradise bows down at her girth.
I bow to you, Mother, I bow to you.
I bow to you, Mother, I bow to you.
On her head, the Himalayan crown,
At her feet, rivers gather down.
In her hands, the Vedas' sacred scroll,
Behold, no other land can be her whole.
Hail, India, I bow to India.
Hail, India, I bow to India.
I bow to you, Mother, I bow to you.
Hail, India, I bow to India.
Hail, India, I bow to India.
I bow to you, Mother, I bow to you.