La poesia dei Quanti
trovo e pubblico (da Quantum Mechanics):
Where classical thought lies fast asleep,
And nothing continuous is taken into account,
Because things are grouped in set amounts. My good friend Planck was sitting quietly,
Contemplating the radiation of a blackbody.
Upon my arrival, he turned to me and said,
“Take my constant for your journey ahead.” I had to keep moving, so I left him there
Because like Einstein’s photons in the air,
Without any speed, my existence is, alas,
Completely nonexistent due to zero mass. As I flew, my mind attempted to collect
Thoughts about the photoelectric effect,
Whose duality made my mood quite grave,
For apparently, I was a particle and a wave. Heisenberg tried to give me a guarantee,
With his principle of uncertainty,
But I grew depressed while he was showing
I was lost if I knew how fast I was going. So I left him there, trying not to cry,
When I came upon the symbol psi.
Perhaps I could alleviate my desperation
With help from the Schrödinger equation. I found my position along an axis, bar none,
For my probability was equal to one.
Because much to my great surprise
My equation had been normalized. What does that say about our capabilities,
To have a world set on probabilities?
But I continued, tunneling through an infinite wall,
Just to meet up with my old friend Paul. Now, Dirac was surfing on a wave,
And so he turned to me and gave
An equation meant to reconcile
The classical and quantum style. But my tired system was too perturbed,
My confused thoughts far too disturbed,
Even my Hamiltonian operator couldn’t junction
With its own personal Eigenfunction. Was I dead or alive, or somewhere in between?
Was I a particle, a wave, or an undiscovered dream?
Finally, I decided to fight quantum in direct combat
And paid one final visit to Schrödinger’s cat.
By Maria Moutsoglou, entangled