In the beginning,
that beginning,
the universe was desolate and cold,
and out of the cosmic speakers came a voice
a warm, modulated voice,
a voice as if it were a reverberating tone from
a Fender 64 Custom Deluxe,
and the voice said, 'Let there be light.'
The current ran through a thin wire called filament,
and the neurons fired up,
Prometheus threw a party,
and the fields of light bulb grew and grew.
Over hills and mountains;
oceans and space;
the lights turned to vanity,
proud of how they were tinted,
lo and behold,
they bashed one another.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem