The inertia of old typewriters
Was overcome by the forceful fingers
Of authors, who typed great ideas.
Now light keyboards yield to petty thoughts
That propagate at the speed of light,
leaving prints to slumber for ages,
And to ferment posthumously- too late
to be of any use to the rightful authors!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
dear poet, this is a fact that new things are rapidly replacing the old ones. Nice poem. Thanks and please reply.