They neither slither slide nor sneak
but have this habit they seem to keep,
back into all generations deep
this persistence they have to creep.
It's a trait in their DNA, makes me weep.
Through web weft and warp, bias will seep
you'd think they'd sometimes leap or sleep;
won't shed old habits they tend to keep
and adhere to their incessant need to creep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem