human
O thou smith, my dearest brother, What art thou in smithy forging, Hammering thus without cessation?
gpt
Out of gold a moon I'm shaping, And a sun of silver making, 50 In the sky I then will place them, Over six of starry heavens.
human
O thou smith, O Ilmarinen, What you make is wholly useless. Gold will never shine like moonlight, Silver will not shine like sunlight.