It carried on its head a large grain of sand,
Helping its team-mates and giving them a hand.
If it's black then it's safe,
But if it's red, be brave.
Be it a stream or be it a pit
It faced its obstacles with mighty grit!
Its size didn't intimidate it,
And when I disturbed, it just bit.
It went on and on and on and on
Until its hill was built upon,
It celebrated, it rejoiced
And danced all night,
As all the hard-work surely paid off!
But then a cruel hand's fling and the elephant's swing
Along with the hippo's robust wring,
brought down each and everything.
All the fall of sand and soil
triggered the ants' blood to boil.
They decided to take revenge for this.
And so they left to tackle every man,
Birds, hippos
And elephant toes.
It's the ant's way of taking revenge
for no mistake of theirs.
So if you ever see a sand-hill build up,
Don't ever blame it on your pup.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem