The net, magnificent and evil,
Will soon the Real God become.
We've made a long, unneeded travel,
The Earth is just a punctured drum.
The end is nigh, behold the trimmings.
You see your back on every screen,
And the World, in 'amniotic fluid' swimming,
Is ready for its final scream.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem