1 . Last week, I sent the same request to ChatGPT, the latest artificial-intelligence chatbot from OpenAI. “Upon the Firth of Forth, a bridge doth stand,” it began. In less than a minute, the program had created in full a rhyming Shakespearean sonnet (莎士比亚十四行诗). Tools like ChatGPT seem poised to change the world of poetry — and so much else — but poets also have a lot to teach us about artificial intelligence. If algorithms (算法) are getting good at writing poetry, it’s partially because poetry was always an algorithmic business.

Even the most rebellious (叛逆的) poets follow more rules than they might like to admit. When schoolchildren are taught to imitate the structure of sonnet, they are effectively learning to follow algorithmic constraints. Should it surprise us that computers can do so, too?

But considering how ChatGPT works, its ability to follow the rules for sonnets seems a little more impressive. No one taught it these rules. It is based on a newer kind of AI known as a large language model (LLM). To put it simply, LLMs analyze large amounts of human writing and learn to predict what the next word in a string of text should be, based on context. One frequent criticism of LLMs is that they do not understand what they write; they just do a great job of guessing the next word.

When a private verse by Dickinson makes us feel like the poet speaks directly to us, we are experiencing the effects of a technology called language. Poems are made of paper and ink — or, these days, electricity and light. There is no one “inside” a Dickinson poem any more than one by ChatGPT. Of course, every Dickinson poem reflects her intention to create meaning. When ChatGPT puts words together, it does not intend anything. Some argue that writings by LLMs therefore have no meaning, only the appearance of it. If I see a cloud in the sky that looks like a giraffe, I recognize it as an accidental similarity. In the same way, this argument goes, we should   regard the writings of ChatGPT as merely imitating real language, meaningless and random as cloud shapes.

When I showed my friends the sonnet by ChatGPT, they called it “soulless and barren.” Despite following all the rules for sonnets, the poem is predictable. But is the average sonnet by a human any better? If we now expect computers to write not just poems but good poems, then we have set a much higher bar.

The Million Pound Bank Note

It was the summer of 1903. Two old and wealthy brothers, Roderick and Oliver, made a bet. Oliver believed that with a million pound bank note a man could survive a month in London. His brother Roderick doubted it. At that moment, they saw a penniless young man    1     (wander) on the pavement outside their house. It was Henry Adams, a businessman,     2     was lost in London and did not know what he should do. The two brothers invited Henry in. They asked Henry some questions and they knew Henry was an American and it was the first time that he    3     (come) to London. As a matter of fact, Henry landed in Britain    4     accident. Back home Henry had his own boat. About a month before, he was sailing out of the bay. Then, towards nightfall Henry found himself    5     (carry) out to sea by a strong wind.

The next morning Henry had just about given himself    6     for lost    7     he was spotted by a ship. And it was the ship    8     brought Henry to England. In England, Henry earned his passage by working as an unpaid hand, which accounts for his appearance.     9     (hear) Henry's story, the two brothers gave Henry a letter    10     (contain) a million pound bank note. Their bet began…

6 . The Old Man and The Sea

The old man took one look at the great fish as he watched the shark close in.     1    .

The shark closed fast on the boat and when he hit the fish the old man saw his mouth open and his strange eyes and his sharp teeth as he drove forward in the meat just above the tail. The old man could hear the noise of skin and flesh ripping on the big fish when he threw the fishing spear(叉)into the shark’s head at a place where the line between his eyes crossed with the line that ran straight back from his nose. There were no such lines.     2     He hit it with his wet, bloody hands driving a good spear with all his strength. He hit without hope but with determination and complete hatred.

The shark turned over and the old man saw his eye was not alive and then he turned over once again, wrapping himself in the rope.     3     Then, on his back, with his tail still moving and his mouth opening and closing, the shark swam over the water as fast as a speed boat. The water was white where his tail beat it and three quarters of his body was clear above the water when the rope broke.

    4     Then he went down very slowly. “He took about forty pounds,” the old man said aloud. He took my spear too and all the rope, he thought, and now my fish bleeds again and there will be others. He did not like to look at the fish any longer since the shark had bitten it. When the shark had hit the fish, it was as though he himself had been hit. But I killed the shark that hit my fish, he thought. And that was the biggest shark that he had ever seen. And he had seen big ones in his lifetime. It was too good to last, he thought. I wish it had been a dream now and that I had never caught the fish.

Carter Druse was born in Virginia. He loved his parents, his home and the south. But he loved his country, too. And in 1861, when the US was divided by a terrible war, Carter Druse, a southerner, decided to join the army of the north.

He told his father about his decision one morning at breakfast. The old man looked at his only son for a moment, too shocked to speak. Then he said, “Please don’t tell your mother about your decision. She is sick, and we both know she has only a few weeks to live. ”

Carter’s father paused, again looking deep into his son’s eyes. “Carter, ” he said, “No matter what happens, be sure that you always do what you think is your duty. ”

Both Carter Druse and his father left the table that morning with broken hearts. And Carter soon left his home and everyone he deeply loved behind.

One sunny afternoon, a few months later, Carter Druse was sent to guard a road which was only a few miles from an enemy’s base. It began in a forest, down in the valley, and climbed up the side of a huge rock. Anyone standing on the top of this high rock would be able to see down into the valley.

Hidden in the valley’s forest were thousands of Carter’s fellow soldiers. They had marched for thirty-six hours. Now they were resting.

Their plan was to attack by surprise their enemy on the other side of the valley. But if their enemy learned about the army hiding in the forest, the soldiers would find themselves in a trap with no escape. That was why Carter Druse had been sent to guard the road and it was his duty to be sure that no enemy soldier spied on the valley, where the army of the north was hiding.

Suddenly, he saw a man on horseback standing on the huge rock.

At that instant, the horseman turned his head and looked in Carter’s direction.