With drones on their way to perfection
wayfinders set sights
on freeing the getting of knowledge from time
by intra-cerebral injection;
thereby allowing knowledge of all words
and ending obscure and foreign word rejection.
You won't need to go to a glossary for Burns
or need to learn Russian;
you'll be able to inject a novel.
That done, for aerialist travail,
you'll be able to grow a tail.
Having outgrown that,
you'll drop it off without fail.
A way will be found
to round up birds with sound.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem