There's a haunt in my brain and it drives me insane:
If my neurons, through mere computation,
Can endow me with states of enjoyment and pain,
Could a robot achieve true sensation?
Could its red be my red or my yellow instead—
Is there even a proper distinction?
If my answer is wrong, have I reason to dread
That my mind's on the brink of extinction?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem