In Christmas Trees,
Mistle-toe and Santa Claus,
Devotees see it shining
As the seeds of love.
Feel it in the festive rush,
That is un-tiring and un-ending;
In the scripted words of cards,
But no care to read and wish back.
Feel it in the song of Joy,
For the world and mass:
It is Jingle Bells,
In the all corners of heart.
Alas! Victims of wars,
Jihad and terror,
Of floods, droughts, and famine;
Can't feel and enjoy it;
Victims of physical abuse,
Of the psychological abuse,
Deprived of food, water and clothes,
Missing and missing altogether.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem