I was walking down the lane to my work,
With a heavy heart and a throat to choke,
I saw two men painting the road,
With black and yellow,
Coat after coat;
That was the only thing that lit my face;
The paint roller made me smile,
And firmed my gaze;
I wished to walk down to them and lend a hand,
I wished to just give up my work,
And go near them and stand;
Love for my work is something I lack,
At that moment,
I just wished to paint yellow and black.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem