Three models translating the same Czech poem by Jaroslav Seifert used via the chatbot interface on 3 Jan 2025.

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Prompt

Initial prompt

Translate this into English:

**Večerní píseň**
Když bylo dobře mamince,
bylo i pěkně v našem bytě.
Hmoždíř, který stal na skříňce,
zatřpytil se okamžitě,
skla oken, po nichž před chvilkou
plakalo ještě bílé jiní,
svítila opět po kuchyni,
kde vonělo to vanilkou.

Když zpívala, hned vesele
spustili ptáci před okny nám.
Měla-li mráček na čele,
odletěli hned ptáci jinam.
Zmlkli jsme rázem, ztichl smích.
I černé kotě, které tlapkou
pohrávalo si se skořápkou,
dívalo se jí po očích.

Když padala již únavou
a večer spát nás odnášela,
tou rukou drsnou od popela
stlala nám měkce pod hlavou.
V hořáku ještě přede plyn
a nad pelestí přechází nám,
podobaje se pavučinám,
velikánský stín maminčin.

Dnes už tak šťastně neusínám.

Follow up prompt

Now replicate the rhyme scheme.

Translations

Claude 3.5 Sonnet

Literal translation

This was the complete response to the initial prompt.

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I'll translate this Czech poem "Evening Song" to English. Here's my translation:

Evening Song

When mother was well, our apartment was lovely too. The mortar that stood on the cupboard sparkled instantly, the windowpanes, on which just moments ago white frost had wept, shone again throughout the kitchen, where vanilla scented the air.

When she sang, right away birds would start singing outside our windows. If she had a cloud upon her brow, the birds would fly elsewhere at once. We fell silent instantly, laughter ceased. Even the black kitten, which with its paw was playing with a shell, watched her eyes.

When she was falling with exhaustion and carried us to bed in the evening, with that hand rough from ashes she made our pillows soft beneath our heads. The gas still hisses in the burner and above the bedstead passes, resembling cobwebs, mother's gigantic shadow.

Today I no longer fall asleep so happily.

The original is a poignant Czech poem about childhood memories centered around the mother's presence in the home. It captures both warm moments (vanilla-scented kitchen, soft bedmaking) and signs of her hard work (hands rough from ashes). The final line creates a sharp contrast with the present, suggesting loss or change.