Beagle automatic poetry translator in simple terms (BAPTIST)

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In the early twenty first century
Automatic translation took hold
For researchers it was high fashion
For commerce it was gold

At first there was L to L translation
That translated Language to Language
Then there was S to T translation
That had some additional advantage

S for Speech and T for Text
(Sometimes T stood for Trash)
S to S, the marvelous next
Speech to Sonic mish-mash

Then came along, the field's swansong
The Final universal integrator
P to P, Poetry to Prose
Beagle's new BAPTIST translator

It's performance wasn't well defined
Understandably hard to compare
To L to S to T and others
That were in somewhat dire disrepair

The BAPTIST, though, was said to be
Of a "simpler, candid nature"
P to P, Problem to Prose
Beagle's new BAPTIST translator

Of a new generation of technologies
Built solidly around AI
"Incredible, hard to believe," they said
So I decided to give it a try

Now I write poetry, that is true
But it's of a wide, variable kind
What ensues really is unpredictable, plus
It depends on my (volatile) state of mind

Usually it's just a tad morose
And it rhymes somewhat, or worse
Sometimes its beautiful, at others it is
Admittably not (quite) so terse

Sometimes it's a little underhand
Sometimes it's moderately bland
Sometimes considerably cryptic so
Even I don't understand

"I could use some translation," I thought
"It would really help imrovise" 
So when I saw "The BAPTIST" in an ad
I downloaded it in a trice

Beagle is a huge corporation (as we know)
Does everything under the sun
I've always suspected that it has
A secret branch, for malicious fun

Some of the software they create
I'm sure, constantly feeds back
The user's unguarded expressions
In High Definition format

The BAPTIST, though, was readily installed
To my very pleasant surprise
"Perhaps they really mean it this time"
"Perhaps they are actually nice"

So I began to use it effectively
Whenever I had a compulsion
This obsessive need to create poetry
From an otherwise innocuous situation

I would start up BAPTIST, and thereafter
In the upper part of its interface
Furiously write some poetry, ensuring that
The lower translation was blaise

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In the lines below, that break from this flow
Are some very memorable examples, that show

How the BAPTIST, with its phenomenal AI
Could beat all online translators, eye-for-eye

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"Vacuous eyes, in sacrifice"
(This surely was a killer line)
"See angels fall on their knees"
(This truly didn't rhyme)

'Light sensors in vaccum witness'
'Scene of altruistic tone'
'Wherein hypothetical humanoid winged forms'
'Rest on the junction of calf and thighbone'

What I'd written now made a lot more sense
I saw the translation, relieved
My poetry really was profound
More than I generally believed

I slid the slider on the screen
From "Translate" to "Rephrase All"
'Eye in vaccum, sacrifice in eyes'
'Human forms with wings trip and fall'

'Person dying has hallucination of angels"
Said the BAPTIST at "Interpret"
I slid to "Essence," 'BS,' it said
I moved it to "Reset" 

Everyday I'd use BAPTIST to write
poetry that was profound
Translated well, Interpreted well
And Rephrased well all around

One day I discovered that
It could even do the converse (but)
While phenomenal in it's forward role, 
Wasn't so good in the reverse

I discovered this by accident
My inspiration low, one time
I fired up BAPTIST, proceeded to write
Potery that began to rhyme

"Her hair, molten silk," I wrote
"Complexion, blanched milk"
The BAPTIST began to beep
"Her persona of angelic ilk"

In a few more lines it began to shriek
I had to mute the sound in dread
"For translation from Prose to Poetry"
"Set the button on right to Red"

I did so, and instantly on the screen
Was a sixty page disclaimer
I had to initial every page, click off on
"Cannot be used to write a flamer"

The upper editor now instructed
"Feed in prose in this space"
The lower window, labeled now
"This is poetry, by God's divine grace"

Prose is so much easier to write
And I tested out these lines
"It was a dark and stormy night," I wrote
"It the best of times and the worst of times"

'In the night, stormed the dark'
'At the same time worst and best'
(Ok, this wasn't rhyming, so)
The BAPTIST had passed the first test!

'nary a dog barked in the storm'
'sleeping at worst, alive at best'
(This was going north)
If this was poetry, I was blessed

'Dark and stormy night'
'O take me from the cradle of death'
(This went north, south, east and west) 
Watched some more lines, and hit 'reset'

God knows, heaven knows (and I think)
Even the BAPTIST internally knows
The poetry really honestly cannot be
Translated effectively to prose

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Created by Victoria Dart
Just as nice as she is smart
30 Mar. 2018
7:21 AM