Who is the man seated on a black buffalo, going to the assembly house,
Who the man going to,
Fluting a folk song?
You do not know him, do not know him, I shall tell you,
Tell you later on,
You just wait for.
Who is the man seated on a black buffalo going to the assembly house,
Fluting a song,
In kurta and pyjamas?
You do not know, do not know him, said I to you before,
He is the rustic, after the R’s, getting a mandate from,
Going to be your MLA.
O, I see, I see, a photo stuff, you keep the things please,
Let me take the snaps,
The snaps of his!
You go on taking photographs and he will go pleasing you,
Keeping you in all smile and humour
Through his antics.
Today he is an MLA, tomorrow he will turn into a Chief Minister
Then into a central Minister,
You just keep seeing.
One day he will come on a buffalo, another day on a bullock cart,
Another day on a cart drawn by horses,
Another day on an ass.
While alighting from the buffalo, he will say, Bajaranga bali ki jai,
The MLA on a black buffalo
Yet to be the chief minister.
A representative of the villagerly mass, taught and counselled otherwise,
He keeps milking the mandate
Gone in his favour.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.