human
Other boats, and even bad ones, Always wander forth to battle, And are led to battle-struggle Three times in the course of summer, And return with money loaded, In their hold they carry treasure, 190 But for me, though well constructed, Of a hundred boards constructed, Here upon my rests I'm rotting, Lying idly at my moorings, And the worst worms of the country Underneath my ribs are lurking, While the birds, of all most horrid, In my masts their nests are building, All the toads from out the forest Over all my deck are leaping. 200 Twice it had been better for me, Two or three times were it better Had I been a mountain pine-tree, Or upon the heath a fir-tree, With a squirrel in my branches, Underneath my boughs a puppy.
gpt
Do not weep, O wooden vessel, Fret thyself, O boat with rowlocks! 210 Soon shalt thou go forth to battle, There to mix in furious conflict. Boat, who wast by builder fashioned, 'Twas this gift the builder gave thee, That thy prow should reach the water, And thy sides the billows traverse, Even though no hand should touch thee, Neither arm be thrust against thee, Though no shoulder should direct thee, And although no arm should guide thee.
human
None of all my race so mighty, Neither will the boats, my brothers, Move unpushed into the water, Nor unrowed upon the billows, If no hand is laid upon us, And no arm should urge us forward.
gpt
If I push you in the water, 230 Will you make, unrowed, your journey, Unassisted by the oars, By the rudder undirected, When the sails no breeze is filling?
human
None of all my race so noble, Nor the host of other vessels, Speed along unrowed by fingers, Unassisted by the oars, 240 By the rudder undirected, When the sails no breeze is filling.
gpt
Can you speed if some one rows you, If assisted by the oars, By the rudder if directed, When the sails the breeze is filling?
human
Yes, my race would hasten onward, All the other boats my brothers, Speed along if rowed by fingers, If assisted by the oars, By the rudder if directed, When the sails the breeze is filling.
gpt
O thou boat, of shape so curving, O thou wooden boat with rowlocks, Art thou just as fit to bear us, As thyself art fair to gaze on?
human
I am fitted well to bear you, And my floor is very spacious, And a hundred men might row me, And a thousand others stand there.