An inventor builds a device that translates birdsong. The first phrases are mundane: "Seed here," "Warm branch." Then sparrows begin reviewing the neighborhood. "That cat is sloppy," "The new bakery smells hopeful." People stand under trees, eavesdropping. Soon, the birds start composing satire about city council. The inventor turns off the device, overwhelmed. Birds keep chirping, oblivious to the human drama below. Perhaps some songs are better left untranslated.
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