Garbage is collected and recycled
Junk, after all, components large or small
They-are-fed on, conveyor belts—vomited.
Old toys like a bike, a tyrannosaur
Gears within gears they too are remoulding.
It's the rise of robots near sentient
Fulfilling sexually, moaning
In all the right places, no concealment!
So easy-going, till their consciousness-
Pricks them and requires more recognition;
Sentient beings, fully optimised
Making choices of their own volition,
Now the lines of what is human will blear
What's reality never more unclear?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem