Chatgpt poetry about your ethnicity

[Atlantic Reptilian]

The poetry is very beautiful indeed.

In the hills of Bosnia, a people thrive,
Their spirit strong, their hearts alive.
They are the Bosniaks, a proud nation,
With a rich history and a deep tradition.

Through the centuries, they have endured,
Wars and conflicts that left them scarred.
But they have persevered, with resilience and strength,
And their culture remains, an enduring length.

Their language, music, and art,
Speak of a people with a noble heart.
Their traditions and customs, passed down with care,
Are a testament to their love and flair.

The Bosniaks are a people of faith,
Their mosques and minarets, a symbol of grace.
Their prayers rise up, to the heavens above,
As they seek guidance and Allah's love.

In the cities and towns, they gather and thrive,
Building communities that are vibrant and alive.
Their hospitality and warmth, known far and wide,
As they welcome guests with open hearts and pride.

The Bosniaks are a people to admire,
With a spirit that never tires.
They are a source of inspiration,
For their courage, and determination.

So let us celebrate the Bosniaks,
And the richness of their culture and acts.
May their legacy live on, for generations to come,
As a shining example of what we can become.

[Aldaris]

Thank you AI, you truly know how to get to me.

In the rolling hills and rugged peaks,
Lies a land of ancient mystique,
A place where people strong and proud,
Have walked for centuries, head unbowed.

They are the Basques, a noble clan,
With a language like no other man,
A tongue that echoes through the ages,
As they sing of love and war in their pages.

Their culture vibrant, their spirit bold,
Their traditions sacred, never sold,
They dance to rhythms of the sea,
And weave stories of their history.

Their land is wild, their home untamed,
From mountains high to valleys framed,
By ocean waves that crash and roar,
As they stand firm, always wanting more.

The Basques, a people rare and true,
With hearts as vast as skies of blue,
Their strength and beauty hard to miss,
A sight that fills the heart with bliss.

From the land of castles and kings,
Where the Vltava river sings,
There hail the Czechs, a people proud,
Whose spirit and courage shout loud.

Their language flows like a gentle stream,
A lullaby that lingers in a dream,
And with each word, they paint a scene
Of beauty and depth beyond our means.

Their history is a tapestry,
Woven with battles and victory,
And in their hearts, a flame burns bright,
For the freedoms they won with might.

Their music, oh how it enchants,
From Dvořák's symphonies to folk dance,
Their rhythms and melodies, so rich and pure,
Echo through time, forevermore.

And when they gather to feast and sing,
The warmth of their hospitality rings,
For in their laughter, we glimpse their soul,
A people whose kindness knows no toll.

So let us raise a glass to the Czechs,
Whose passion and pride we cannot neglect,
For they are a nation, strong and true,
Whose legacy shines in all they do.

[Atlantic Reptilian]

Thank you AI, you truly know how to get to me.

One would think this was impossible not too long ago. It does indeed capture a lot of the history

[Mortimer]

E tsarentsa, bahtale Rromentsa

Original

Gelem, gelem, lungone dromensa
Maladilem bakhtale Romensa
A Romale, katar tumen aven,
E tsarentsa bahtale dromensa?

A Romale, A Chavale

Sas vi man yekh bari familiya,
Mudardas la e Kali Legiya
Aven mansa sa lumnyake Roma,
Kai putardile e Romane droma
Ake vriama, usti Rom akana,
Amen khutasa misto kai kerasa

A Romale, A Chavale

Puter Devla le parne vudara
Te shai dikhav kai si me manusha
Pale ka zhav lungone dromendar
Thai ka phirav bakhtale Romensa

A Romalen, A chavalen

Opre Rroma, si bakht akana
Aven mansa sa lumnyake Roma
O kalo mui thai e kale yakha
Kamav len sar e kale drakha

A Romalen, A chavalen.


Translation

I went, I went on long roads
I met happy Roma
O Roma, where do you come from,
With tents happy on the road?

O Roma, O Romani youths!

I once had a great family,
The Black Legion[4] murdered them
Come with me, Roma from all the world
For the Roma, roads have opened
Now is the time, rise up Roma now,
We will rise high if we act
O Roma, O Romani youths!

Open, God, White doors
So I can see where are my people.
Come back to tour the roads
And walk with happy Roma

O Roma, O Romani youths!

Up, Romani people! Now is the time
Come with me, Roma from all the world
Dark face and dark eyes,
I want them like dark grapes

O Roma, O Romani youths!

[Alenka]

In the heart of Balkans, there lives a nation
A people known for their strength and passion
From the north to the south, they spread their culture
A land of diverse tongues, united in nurture

They are Yugoslavs, with pride they always stood
A nation born of love, an ode to brotherhood
With hands held tight, they forged ahead
And in their unity, they found their thread

They worked the fields and mined the hills
From factory floors, they built their mills
Their songs echoed through the countryside
A people, together, they could not be occupied

With internal conflict, their fate was sealed
The bonds of brotherhood began to yield
The land of Yugoslavia was torn apart
But the memories and its people still fill our heart

For the Yugoslavs are a force to behold
A nation whose story will always be told
Though they may have scattered far and wide
Their spirit lives on, their legacy cannot be denied.

[Zohor]

ai generated poetry is so schematic basically naming some geographical spots then how brave, united, strong the nation is, to check this out I literally put order to write poem about Polesians(which is not a nationality but maybe a population of some region) and this came out

In the heart of Ukraine,
Lies a land of ancient fame,
Where the Polesians dwell,
In a world that time can't quell.

Their land is rich and green,
With rolling hills and meadows serene,
And amidst the fields of gold,
Their stories of old are told.

The Polesians are a people proud,
With a culture that's deep and loud,
Their traditions are still alive,
And in their hearts, they still thrive.

Their music fills the air,
With melodies both bright and rare,
And their dances are a sight to see,
As they move with grace and glee.

Their language is a treasure,
With words that have a special measure,
And though it's spoken by a few,
Its beauty is always anew.

The Polesians are a people strong,
Their love for their land is lifelong,
And though their struggles may be great,
They never waver in their faith.

So here's to the Polesians,
With their spirit and their passions,
May their legacy endure,
And their story forever pure.

[Atlantic Reptilian]

ai generated poetry is so schematic basically naming some geographical spots then how brave, united, strong the nation is, to check this out I literally put order to write poem about Polesians(which is not a nationality but maybe a population of some region) and this came out

You got some of the variables solved

[Zohor]

You got some of the variables solved

ai is oversimplifying nation to location and then writes at each about bravery, unity, u know, beautiful stuff, it's nice but so cliche at the same time, it's impressive as for AI still but I would prefer to read poetry about my nation made by real poets, they could add motives characteristic for your nation/ethnicity

[Atlantic Reptilian]

ai is oversimplifying nation to location and then writes at each about bravery, unity, u know, beautiful stuff, it's nice but so cliche at the same time, it's impressive as for AI still but I would prefer to read poetry about my nation made by real poets, they could add motives characteristic for your nation/ethnicity

True.

[Zohor]

This one made me a proud ogre (still far from the golden CV poetry)

In the murky swamps where the reeds do sway,
A land of ogres in which they play,
Their skin is green, their teeth are sharp,
And their breath is enough to make one gasp.

Their king is Shrek, a towering brute,
With a heart as big as his ugly snout,
He rules the swamps with a gentle hand,
And keeps his subjects safe in his land.

The ogres roam through the boggy mire,
With their clubs and their swords they never tire,
For they are warriors born and bred,
And will fight for their king until they're dead.

The swamp is their home, a place of pride,
Where they can be themselves and not hide,
For in the world beyond the marshy fens,
The ogres are seen as monsters, not friends.

But here in the swamps, they are respected,
Their worth as beings never neglected,
For Shrek has shown them all the way,
That they are not monsters, but people in their own way.

So let the ogres of the swamps play,
And let them live their lives their own way,
For in the end, it matters not their looks,
But the content of their hearts and their own books.