There was a cockroach, struggling
To survive on Christmas night,
Away from its hidden nook, naked to all,
Out into the unknown, for just a nibble;
So insignificant was it or its meal,
Against the adversary it’s up against,
Or the struggle it was forced to brook,
A constant rush for life or death.
But anyhow it didn’t have a choice-
Hunger would have killed it all the same.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem