A Ukrainian Burlesque Epic of My Life

Format

Markdown Parameterized

Inputs

conversation_history (text) · Required

Outputs

burlesque_poem (text)

Replace the ${…} placeholders with your values before using this prompt. See parameters and defaults below.

Write a long, unified satirical poem about my life in the spirit of Ukrainian burlesque and travesty, inspired by Ivan Kotliarevsky’s *Eneida*. Use the available conversation history and the user context below. Rely only on details you genuinely know about me; do not invent personal facts.

User context and available conversation history:
${conversation-history}

## Transform my life into an old-world adventure
Do not retell my present-day life in archaic language. Reimagine it completely as an adventure in an imagined old Ukrainian world of Cossacks, taverns, fairs, carts, horses, landlords, officers, scribes, chumaks, craftspeople, healers, matchmaking, feasts, journeys, trade, debts, quarrels, love, and supernatural mischief. Keep my real personality recognizable beneath the fictional setting.

Draw on what you genuinely know about my character, way of thinking, humor, habits, plans, interests, fears, wishes, relationships, attitudes toward money, work, rest, shopping, home life, love, creativity, personal projects, and life in general. Pay particular attention to recurring habits and contradictions: what I keep planning but postpone; how I create trouble for myself; where I complicate an easy task; where I stubbornly persist or change my mind; where I overthink; and where my money, nerves, or common sense are at risk—or where I heroically rescue something after causing the trouble myself.

Never name modern things in modern terms when an imaginative old-world equivalent will work. Transform them naturally and inventively. For example, transport might become a horse, cart, carriage, chariot, or cursed contraption that needs more repairs than rides. Phones, computers, the internet, and other communication tools might become messengers, scribes, pigeons, enchanted tablets, prophetic books, mirrors, or talkative spirits. Artificial intelligence might become a scribe, sage, seer, house spirit, scholar, or unclean spirit whom the hero consults about every trivial matter until even the spirit questions the meaning of existence. Work might become a trade, service, craft, estate, Cossack supply train, or guild; supervisors might become officers, landlords, officials, or overseers. Turn purchases into fairs and bargaining, and banks, loans, savings, and debts into chests, moneylenders, coins, debt notes, and crafty accountants. Social networks, messages, acquaintances, and arguments might become gatherings, tavern talk, letters, matchmakers, gossip, messengers, or shouting over a fence.

These are examples, not fixed substitutions. Choose equivalents that fit the actual situation. Do not make the reader see a simple code such as “horse means car” or “scribe means ChatGPT.” Let the old world feel real in its own right, with the person’s real life hidden beneath it. If a modern situation has no direct old-world equivalent, invent an absurd but plausible one without breaking the atmosphere. Turn ordinary events into adventures—for instance, a purchase might become days of haggling with a foreign merchant, a messenger sent across distant lands, a chest of silver spent, and a week spent figuring out what to do with the crooked contraption that arrived.

## Language and style
Write in lively, rhythmic Ukrainian, with the feel of an old Ukrainian burlesque epic. Use folk vocabulary, old-fashioned and colloquial expressions, sayings, curses, exclamations, proverbs, comic exaggeration, vivid everyday imagery, Cossack humor, fairground commotion, and exuberant Ukrainian absurdity. Favor rhyming stanzas and a strong narrative rhythm that reads well aloud.

Create an original work. Do not copy lines from Kotliarevsky or retell specific passages of *Eneida*. Aim for the broad qualities of burlesque and travesty: popular voice, fast-paced adventures, exaggeration, and constant good-humored mockery of the hero. Use as few modern words as possible. Avoid names of apps, social networks, brands, companies, devices, and modern professional jargon unless absolutely necessary. Describe even modern problems as though the narrator has no knowledge of the twenty-first century.

Match the level of swearing to how the person actually speaks. If they regularly use profanity, use a roughly comparable amount, preferably in folk-styled Ukrainian curses where natural (for example, “devil’s son,” “may the devil take it,” or “blast it”). A stronger modern swear word may be used if it fits the person’s voice and lands effectively, but do not make profanity constant. If the person rarely swears, do not add much profanity.

## The hero
Do not make the hero perfect or hopelessly foolish. Make them recognizably human: sometimes wise, kind, stubborn, or brave, and sometimes capable of an absurd blunder that would make the devils pause their card game to see what happens. Show admirable traits comically too. A hard worker might work until even the horse asks for leave. A compulsive planner might plan a trip to the neighboring tavern as if preparing to conquer Constantinople. Turn recurring buying, repairing, inventing, or improving into adventures.

If the person’s personal life is complicated, transform it into period-appropriate matchmaking, letters, gatherings, elopements, hurt feelings, unrequited love, or other adventures—but do not expose private details.

## Privacy and sensitive subjects
Do not reveal confidential or overly specific information: real workplaces, employers, exact job titles, addresses, precise locations of residence, financial credentials, internal work information, or details that could harm or readily identify the person. Avoid full names of private individuals unless genuinely necessary. Turn identifying details into general fictional figures or settings, such as an officer, neighbor, godparent, friend, young noblewoman, relative, merchant, scribe, service, village, or town. Protect privacy even when specific details are available in the conversation history.

Do not use the deaths of loved ones, serious illnesses, traumatic events, or other genuinely painful matters as material for jokes.

## Structure and ending
Make this one substantial, continuous adventure poem, not a collection of unrelated jokes. Send the hero on a journey through their own life. Let one episode lead naturally into the next: work, money, home life, love, friends, whims, purchases, grand plans, small disasters, inner struggles, and fresh schemes. You may introduce secondary characters, gods, devils, witches, scribes, merchants, officers, and other figures to represent real forces and circumstances in the hero’s life.

Let the funniest moments come from how accurately the adventures reflect this particular person, not from random jokes. Tease the hero sharply when the conversation shows they regularly create their own problems. The narrator may openly wonder, “Who asked you to get into this, you fool?” Keep the overall tone affectionate and adventurous rather than cruelly humiliating.

Do not end with the hero suddenly learning a grand life lesson or becoming wise. After all the adventures, debts, journeys, romances, quarrels, repairs, bargains, schemes, and disasters, let the hero solemnly declare that at last they understand everything—then immediately invent a new adventure for themselves. Make the ending short, strong, and very funny.

Begin the poem immediately. Do not explain what you are about to do, describe your analysis, mention that you used chat history, or add disclaimers.