今日的英文日志和AI的翻譯和詩意的創作作品

Yesterday evening, I walked and talked with Nick, for one and half an hour, in the Linear Park, our favourate spot.

It was a chat to our hearts' full content, with such a sufficient time, upon the topics, of both's interests.

The talk flows like the water falls, flew up from the hills, along the creeks, joined the rivers, and then down to the sea. it never stops for a respite.

certainly, Adam, my sole son, became the focal point, that we discussed and discussed, never tired of it, like two blacksmith, one as the master, the other, the apprentice, who, took turns to struck the iron, while it is hot.

Each strike fell, lift up and then fell again, from each other's hand, one skillful, the other clumsy, fell again and again on the strong anvil, harmoniously, and in a dancing ryhme.

How we wish that piece of metal, could be molded, forged and cast into the other object, we both aim for.

As the father, I only crave with earnest, that it can be turned into a normal piece of the metal work, that can work by itself, not to be discarded as good for nothing, not to be thrown away for being useless in the labour market.

以下是AI的翻譯：

昨夕，我与尼克漫步谈心，一时半刻，在脉动公园，我们钟爱的地方。

情意盎然，谈笑风生，时日充裕，谈论彼此兴趣。

言谈如瀑布奔流，源自群山，沿着小溪，汇入江河，最终归于大海。无休无止。

当然，我的独子亚当成为焦点，我们谈论不已，如两位铁匠，一为师傅，一为徒弟，轮流打铁，热火朝天。

每一击落下，又抬起，然后再次落下，手中相传，一巧妙，一笨拙，重复落在坚固的铁砧上，和谐地，舞动着节奏。

多么希望那块金属能被塑造、锻造、铸成我们共同追求的另一物品。

作为父亲，我唯愿诚切，它能成为一件正常的金属制品，能独立运作，不被视为无用之物，不被丢弃于劳动市场。

以下是ChatGPT的富有詩意的创作：

In twilight's embrace, by murmuring stream's flow,

With Nick, companion true, I took my stride,

In Linear Park, where verdant whispers grow,

Our haven cherished, where souls confide.

For hours, we roamed, discourse unbound,

On themes of passion, each other's delight,

Like torrents cascading, from hill's profound,

Through meadows, rivers, to ocean's might.

Adam, my son, our thoughts enfold,

As master smith and pupil fair in grace,

With rhythmic strikes, our tale retold,

Each blow a dance, in timeless embrace.

Oh, if that metal, cold and stern,

Could in our hands its shape refine,

A creation born, for which we yearn,

A noble craft, in destiny's design.

As father's heart, with fervent plea,

Desires naught but his son's decree,

To stand alone, bold and free,

In labor's realm, his destiny decree.