Make You Off, Go You Off Poem by Matin Bairagi

I'll push snake's tail in your earhole and harness horse-hoofs round your neck
And smear elephant's stool in your body and wrap dogtail on your waist.
I'll drive in your nostril some sweepings left by pigs
Or exorcise you by calling a fakir
And will fume your eyes with the smokes of burnt termaric
And hoist a flag in celebrating death anniversary of saints
I'll beat you, for sure, with a door bar
If I can catch you up, I'll rub poisonous arum in your skin
And mix grits in your food
So make you off, go now you off -

Then he goes off, but the one who replaces him is a greater danger
He, too, kneads our flesh and bones, kicks us, thrashes us
And subjugates with tricks an deceptions
Beats us at random, makes our bones dust and plays tabor with our skin
God of the kings laughingly utters, ‘Yes, yes, this is the same
New wine is poured into old bottles, Hari, Hari bol!
Then we start saying in the same tone pelting rotten rats
And throwing fetid hay-cocks and shooting evil darts on him
Again we shout - make you off, now go you off
Then he, too, goes off, but boastfully declares for coming back
God of the kings laughingly utters, ‘Yes, this is the same
New wine is poured into old bottles, Hari, Hari bol! '
I lie down and shout - make you off, now go you off
Else stay at ease, since it is the decree of fate, alas!

-Translated by Abul Kayyum