Inside the thought is an array of knowledge,
When do computers basically examine this object of the mind?
Never do they scrutinize, never do they work on brains,
Like going to movies in the cinema, and risking their lives.
Never do screens and boards show signs of thoughts
Unless too much intellectuality.
The thoughts control us, they work upon us,
Little do they resent us when we think.
This thought, that thought, will wisely bring,
Forgiving the communication of such wisdom.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem