I crouched on the sidewalk,
With different colored chalk,
In my hands.
I drew a circle and then a triangle,
In yellow and blue and white.
These colors seemed right,
For the picture I drew bright.
But then came along a bike,
And smeared this picture bright.
My hard work was destroyed,
In a second.
I tried to look for the offender.
I did not him find,
For the offender was me.
It was I who didn't like my own work,
And tried to shift the blame,
On no one there but I on the bike.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem