In his chamber the answering and questioning machine
Was blinking, blazing, grinning and escorting like a robot.
This remaking of the hazards concurrent, expected more
Than just dramatics, hundred percent was the motto.
A bearing of the wooden leg boarded on the shuttle
That listened too usually like the spacecrafts of ancient nature.
A lot of lights! A lot of death! So that was a book
Instead of the volumes always in existence,
The robotic camaraderie inflicted the totality
So inherent, that cultures forsook each other.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem