The "Indian languages TRANSliteration" (ITRANS) is an ASCII transliteration scheme for Indic scripts, particularly for Devanagari script.
The need for a simple encoding scheme that used only keys available on an ordinary keyboard was felt in the early days of the RMIM newsgroup where lyrics and trivia about Indian popular movie songs was being discussed. In parallel was a Sanskrit Mailing list that quickly felt the need of an exact and unambiguous encoding. ITRANS emerged on the RMIM newsgroup as early as 1994. This was spearheaded by Avinash Chopde,who developed a transliteration package. Its latest version is v5.34. The package also enables automatic conversion of the Roman script to the Indic version.
ITRANS was in use for the encoding of Indian etexts - it is wider in scope than the Harvard-Kyoto scheme for Devanagari transliteration, with which it coincides largely, but not entirely. The early Sanskrit mailing list of the early 1990s, almost same time as RMIM, developed into the full blown Sanskrit Documents project and now uses ITRANS extensively, with thousands of encoded texts. With the wider implementation of Unicode, the traditional IAST is used increasingly also for electronic texts.
Gazing at the landscape, after all you'll find my fellows
there, on the tranquil traces of my white, clear land. No need to fear
opening the gates to travel, it comes so nearly
to make you feel the glorious side
Feeling free, diving into times you'll never forget, hunger for
freedom, in the silence of wintery nights, spirits herald. The wind comes
The light looses significance, throughout the night
Owl singing the dead song inside the forest of dusk uncontrolled desire rising
from above the heart strength is near to haunt you
Coming to touch your soul. Heed to the harmonious song of wise owl.
All fear fading away. By hearing the hoarse cry.
Take a look as the mighty wind will bring the flood washing your pain
takes your sorrow to far away face of the old trees glorifying the land
Calls to spirits made before you time for joining with the long breeze of day
when the wind scars the bleached faces, of the snowy land,
cold scent of the wind, brings the truth from behind different sides.
Hear them calling for precious spirits to fly dreaming the truth