Hapax Legomena
Mar 19, 2007 7:01 am

English Toponyms

Yesterday I pondered the nation Turkey, and wondered why it had to be so hilariously homophonous with the Thanksgiving bird. I reasoned that there is another English toponym -ia that is also available, so *Turkia is a reasonable name for the country that avoids any such problems.

But Turkia seemed anomalous to me. To try to figure out why, I rummaged through my mental list of toponyms to examine the distribution of -y vs. -ia in place names.

-y -ia
Hungary
Germany
Italy
Saxony
duchy
county
vichy
Pennsylvania
Bulgaria
Romania
Croatia
Bavaria
Wallachia
Bohemia

Obviously this is a pretty short list, but I observed the following: Toponyms with Germanic-style initial stress take the ending -y. Conversely, all of the toponyms ending in -ia have Latinate antepenult stress. This appears to hold even when the root to which the toponym is applied is monosyllabic, in which case the resulting toponym can only end in -y.

There are some exceptions (e.g. Parthia), but they tend to be learned words that seem to be internalized as foreign terms, and so not subject to normal English morphemic rules. For toponyms that have been completely nativized, it seems to hold that -y and -ia are allomorphs whose realization depends on the stress pattern of the word.

This in turn explains why Turkey is Turkey and not Turkia: since the stem is monosyllabic, only the -y pattern can apply. The spelling “-ey” appears to be a fluke, perhaps influenced by the unfortunate homophony that got me thinking about this in the first place.

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Nov 22, 2006 4:53 pm

More Spam Poetry

forest shall destroy them and whatsoever is there

I love it. It’s the title of my next novel: “Forest Shall Destroy Them.”

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Nov 17, 2006 9:15 am

Spelling

This was too delightful to pass up. From Language Log:

THE SPELL AGAINST SPELLING
George Starbuck

(a poem to be inscribed in dark places and never to be spoken aloud)

My favorite student lately is the one who wrote about feeling clumbsy.
I mean if he wanted to say how it feels to be all thumbs he
Certainly picked the write language to right in in the first place.
I mean better to clutter a word up like the old Hearst place
Than to just walk off the job and not give a dam.

Another student gave me a diagragm.
“The Diagragm of the Plot in Henry the VIIIth.”

Those, though, were instances of the sublime.
The wonder is in the wonders they can come up with every time.

Why do they all say heighth, but never weighth?
If chrystal can look like English to them, how come chryptic can’t?
I guess cwm, chthonic, qanat, or quattrocento
Always gets looked up. But never momento.
Momento they know. Like wierd. Like differant.
It is a part of their deep deep-structure vocabulary:
Their stone axe, their dark bent-offering to the gods:
Their protoCro-Magnon pre-pre-sapient survival-against-cultural-odds.

You won’t get me deputized in some Spelling Constabulary.
I’d sooner abandon the bag-toke-whiff system and go decimal.
I’m on their side. I better be, after my brush with “infinitessimal.”

There it was, right where I put it, in my brand-new book.

And my friend Peter Davison read it, and he gave me this look,
And he held the look for a little while and said, “George…”

I needed my students at that moment. I, their Scourge.
I needed them. Needed their sympathy. Needed their care.
“Their their,” I needed to hear them say, “their their.”

You see, there are Spellers in this world, I mean mean ones too.
They shadow us around like a posse of Joe Btfsplks
Waiting for us to sit down at our study-desks and go shrdlu
So they can pop in at the windows saying “tsk tsk.”

I know they’re there. I know where the beggars are,
With their flash cards looking like prescriptions for the catarrh
And their mnemnmonics, blast ‘em. They go too farrh.
I do not stoop to impugn, indict, or condemn;
But I know how to get back at the likes of thegm.

For a long time, I keep mumb.
I let ‘em wait, while a preternatural calmn
Rises to me from the depths of my upwardly opened palmb.
Then I raise my eyes like some wizened-and-wisened gnolmbn,
Stranger to scissors, stranger to razor and coslmbn,
And I fix those birds with my gaze till my gaze strikes hoslgmbn,
And I say one word, and the word that I say is “Oslgmbnh.”

“Om?” they inquire. “No, not exactly. Oslgmbnh.
Watch me carefully while I pronounce it because you’ve only got two more guesses
And you only get one more hint: there’s an odd number of esses,
And you only get ten more seconds no nine more seconds no eight
And a wrong answer bumps you out of the losers’ bracket
And disqualifies you for the National Spellathon Contestant jacket
And that’s all the time extension you’re going to gebt
So go pick up your consolation prizes from the usherebt
And don’t be surprised if it’s the bowdlerized regularized paperback abridgment of Pepys
Because around here, gentlemen, we play for kepys.”

Then I drive off in my chauffeured Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham
Like something out of the last days of Fellini’s Rougham
And leave them smiting their brows and exclaiming to each other “Ougham!
O-U-G-H-A-M Ougham!” and tearing their hair.

Intricate are the compoundments of despair.

Well, brevity must be the soul of something-or-other.

Not, certainly, of spelling, in the good old mother
Tongue of Shakespeare, Raleigh, Marvell, and Vaughan.
But something. One finds out as one goes aughan.

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Aug 4, 2006 5:49 am

The Last Jabberwocky Translation, I Promise

Here it is in Ancient Greek! Unfortunately, I can’t really understand it. Turns out I’m not as l337 as I thought. From this comment thread.

ΙΑΜΒΡΩΞ ΙΑΜΒΙΚΩΣ

καυσπροῦντος ἤδη, γλοῖσχρα διὰ περισκιᾶς
στρυβλοῦντα καὶ στρομφοῦντ’ ἂν εὑρίσκοις τόφα,
δεινὴ δ’ ἐπέσχε σωθρία βορυγρόφας,
ῥάθαισι δ’ ἀντιποικὸν[1] ὕμνησαν ῥάθαι
ἔκγριμμα· τὸν δὲ πρέσβυν ἐξαυδᾶν κλύω·
‘παῖ, παῖ, φύγοις ἄν ἐμπέδως Ἰάμβροχα,
ἔιτ’ ὄνυχι μάρπτων εἴτε δὴ δάκνων τύχοι
γνάθοισιν, ἀπρόσοιστον· ὣς δ’ αὔτως φυγεῖν
ὄρνιθα δεινὸν Γυπογῦπ’· οὐδ’ ἂν φθάνοις
ἐλθὼν δαφλοισβῷ πρὸς λόγους Βανδράρπαγι.’
ὁ δ’ ἐν χεροῖν εὔκοπνον ἐξάρας ξίφος
θήρας ὅμως μετ’ ἴχνος ὀλγώδους ἔβη·
τέλος δ’ ἀπειπών, πολλὰ συννοούμενος,
πλείστην ὅπου παρέσχε φλαττόθρατ σκιάν,
ἔστη δι’ ὀλίγου· χὠς ἔβοσκεν ἀργίλας
θυμῷ μερίμνας, ἐμπύροισιν ὄμμασιν
σμύζων Ἰάμβρωξ ἔπτετ’ ἐκ ψυδνῆς νάπης,
δῆλος δὲ βορβολισμὸς ἦν ποτωμένου·
ταύτην δὲ καὶ δίχ’, ὡς ἐσεῖδε, καὶ τρίχα,
ἔνθεν τε κἄνθεν διάτορον πληγὴν νέηων,
ἔσνιξεν, ἐξέσναξεν εὐκόπνῳ ξίφει,
εῖθ’ οὗπερ ἔκτα κειμένης τεμὼν κάρα
γαυχούμενος κατῆλθεν· ἀσπαστὸν δ’ ἰδὼν
ἐλθόνθ’ ὁ πρέσβυς, τοιάδ’ ἐξεφρίγκασεν·
‘ὦ χαῖρε λάμπωψ· ὡς Ἰαμβροχοκτόνον
τόδ’ ἀγκάλισμα παιδὸς ἀσμένως ἔχω.
ὦ τρισβακαρτὸν ἦμαρ· ὦ καλοῦ καλά.’
ἤδη δ’ ἐκαύσπρει, γλοῖσχρά τ’ ἐν περισκιᾷ
στρυβλοῦντα καὶ στρομφοῦντ’[2] ἂν εὑρίσκοις τόφα,
δεινὴ δ’ ἐπέσχε σωθρία βορυγρόφας,
ἔκγριμμα δ’ ἀντιποικὸν ὕμνησαν ῥάθαι.

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Aug 3, 2006 7:17 pm

Translating Jabberwocky

So in the previous two posts I presented two different translations of Jabberwocky into Romanian. They’re both good, although they are good at different things. I preferred the Trăncăviciada, for example, because I thought that its wordplay was superior and it has some absolute gems of combinatoric vocabulary–but Larisa found it incomprehensible. The number of nonce words was simply too large for her to understand the thread of the story, while I was able to get through based on my knowledge of the English original. Bîzdîbocul, OTOH, is a more straightforward translation, but Larisa was able to understand it and appreciate the humor.

It’s too bad, because Trăncăviciada has some wonderful gems. Some of my favorites are:

  • vrag fiu, translating “my son”, but vrag is a wonderful bit of allusion. It mixes drag (dear)with a whole set of v-words referring to power or energy: viteaz (brave), voinic (lively youth), etc.
  • volvor, which occurs in the translated line “And burbled as it came”–but the translation is literally “[it came] volvor through the thick brush.” Volvor is meant to mimic “burbled”, but it has changed from a verb into an adverb!
  • fruslavă, my favorite of them all, translating “frabjious.” It’s a blend of frumos (beautiful, good) and slavă (glory).

The Bîzdîbocul version has fewer outright inventions, and in many cases translated nonsense English with perfectly normal Romanian. This appears to be the price of making the poem intelligible. It’s not devoid of its charms, though: harpiduc is an excellent word for “vorpal sword.” (I have a theory about why the Romanian translation cannot support as many nonsense words and remain intelligible. First, Romanian morphology demands that many of the supporting syntactic words from English are absorbed into verb endings and the like. Second, once they are so absorbed they no longer work much to disambiguate the parts of speech, since the endings for Romanian nouns and verbs are phonetically identical. As a result, the more “faithful” Romanian translation is also much more ambiguous and difficult to parse.)

Anyway, here’s a discussion of translating Jabberwocky into Japanese to finish up.

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6:30 pm

Another Jabberwocky Translation in Romanian

Bîzdîbocul
tr. Nina Cassian

Dădeau în plopot ţopi asprili
Trombind, borţind prin ierboteci.
Stifoşii stupureau sporili
şi muimele zglăveci.

«Băiete, fugi de Bîzdîboc,
De fălci şi ghiare care-nşfacă,
De-naripata Cotîrjacă
şi de hidosul Croc!»

El apucă un harpiduc
şi-n murmur prunic, de coprus,
Se tăvăli sub pomul Huc
Căzînd pe gînduri dus.

Pe cînd statea cu gînd luptor,
Cel Bîzdîboc cu ochi de pară
Veni dinspre pădurea rară
Hulbărisind de zor.

Un-doi! Un-doi! şi-aşa, şi-aşa!
Cu harpiducul îl sfîşie
şi-l lasă fără scăfîrlie
şi ploncăie în şa.

«Pe Bîzdîboc l-ai crust! Ce zi!
Te-mbrăţişez, băiat frumos,
Sorinescent. Calc! Calos!»
şi vesel, sfîrcoti.

Dădeau in plopot ţopi asprili,
Trombind, borţind prin ierboteci.
Stifoşii stupureau sporili
şi muimele zglăveci.

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8:38 am

Jabberwocky, Romanian Translation

Trăncăviciada
tr. Frida Papadache

Era friglind, linsoase zăvi
Se tot gyrau, gimblau în ob;
Numai ninsoare-n borogăvi,
Cînd momii sor deşciob.

Păzea, vrag fiu, de Trăncăvici!
Fălci care-nhaţă, Gheară-Rea,
Hîdul Bolbor zboară spre-aici,
Frumoaznicului! Păzea!

El spada-o lua cît ai clipi–
Lung il cătă pe scîrţălat,
Popas făcut la Dum-dum-tri,
Pe gînduri cufundat.

Şi cît pe gînd el sta hătduş
Cu ochii-n flăcări, Trăncăvici,
Suflînd venea-n galop pe sus,
Volvor prin gros desiş.

Un-doi! Un-doi! Ca-n oase moi
Graval tăiş străpunge: zgrunţ!
Mort îl lăsă şi tigva-i luă
Glapă’napoi zglobunţ.

Şi-ai omorît pe Trăncăvici?!
O, fătul meu gloluminos!
O, zi fruslavă! Ohei! Ohu!
Hulubăia voios.

Era friglind, linsoase zăvi
Se tot gyrau, gimblau în ob;
Numai ninsoare-n borogăvi,
Cînd momii sor deşciob.

Found here. I added in the diacritics and corrected a few things that I’m sure were typos. I have a commentary on some of the word choice forthcoming.

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Jun 2, 2006 9:42 pm

Fifteen Minutes, Here I Come

I was featured on Language Log! Now I’m famous.

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Feb 7, 2006 10:17 am

Conlang Relay Text

If you happen to be taking part in the Conlang relay, look away now. This reveals my text, and the relay is not over, so it’s cheating if you peek!

I’m currently participating in the 13th Conlang Relay. “What’s a Conlang relay?” you ask. The link explains it all, but in short: a game of Conlang telephone, in which a text is translated repeatedly from language to language, each translator aided only by a vocab and a rudimentary grammar that explains only what’s necessary to understand the text.

Since some of my readers (or at least one of them) may be interested in the text, I’m posting my Yivrian translation together with the grammar and vocab exactly as I sent them on to the ring. You may try your hand at translating it, if you’d like. I’ll post the “answer” in the comments in a few days.



THE TEXT

Niul eyi pelíra ela lastam kathona nasakavva osro a’ilo:

Loraon anarvessa osro’il pirsedam onyal osind keth noyaa el. Nyel senyala da yarono so raun na lavus.Po tapílona kírith lassimil ta ikil ta dakil dosavvala. Nokepyal em seyya nakírith na tapun da kénessonor té kírith fal sotayyala tarsayéos osind fainen apirsan. Naosind ku fainyaa tabohyol pirsedam. Kéhaila kéhoyal ren, té voethrayala. Pirsedam pudahyol ta kírith nayal no ditoilona ela gevi. Até nasaron afainyé osind apirsan, pirsedam daroyal da badomon na kanda.

Hear me read the text.

VOCAB
a- (prefix) — of, genitive
até — despite, nonetheless, however
badom — rest, remainder
da — in
dakil — fat
daroya — to be happy, to make merry
dito — sack, bag
dosya — to stand, to sit
el — he (3sg masc)
ela — with; about, concerning; full of
em — subordinating conjunction; introduces a subordinate clause expressing intent or desire
ethraya — to be cold
eyi — to be
fainya — to come here, to approach, to draw near
fal — there (adverb)
gev — book (u-declension)
ikil — black
ilo — sadness
kanda — day
katha — which (see note)
keth — which/that (relative; see note)
ku — when, while
ké- (prefix) — all, every
kéha — hand
kéhoya — to touch
kírith — raven
lassimil — small
lastam — young person, youth
lavus — snow
loran — middle
na- (prefix) — that one
na — from; made of; out of, (part) of
narvessa — month
nasakya — to cast aside, to throw away, to discard
nasaron — afterwards, following (nasaron a+infinitive)
naya — to crawl, to slither
nesso — power
niul — this (thing)
no — to, towards; into
nokepya — to attempt, to try
noya — to go to, to approach
nyel — this one (3sg masc)
onya — to see
osind — sleigh, sledge; any unwheeled transport dragged after a horse, esp. in winter
osro — winter
pelíra — story, tale
pirsan — teacher
pirsedam — student
po — upon, on
pudya — to be still, to be quiet
ren — wall (u-declension)
senya — to stand, to stay, to remain
seyya — to put
so — near, next to
sotayya — to cling, to be attached
ta — and
taboya — to be worried
tarsaya — to look in the face; to examine, to look at closely; to confront
top — shoulder (u-declension)
té — but
té — raven
yaro — garden

GRAMMAR

NOUN MORPHOLOGY

There are five cases in Yivrian, of which four occur in the text. They are expressed with the following affixes:

NOMINATIVE — (citation form): used for subject of verbs and object of prepositions when the prepositional phrase modifies a noun

GENITIVE a-: used for direct possession and in some constructions

DATIVE -os: meaning “for, for the sake of, to”

ABLATIVE -on: meaning “by means of, with, at such a time, in that place”, and used for the object of prepositions when the prepositional phrase modifies a verb

The genitive affix is always prefixed and is invariable. The dative and ablative affixes are infixed before a final vowel if there is any, e.g. NOM kenda “king” => ABL kendona “by the king”. In other cases it is simply attached to the end of the noun.

U-DECLENSION

There is a large class of nouns that have a change in the stem vowel in every form except the nominative. Rather than go into the details, I’ll simply list the alternate stems of all of the u-declension nouns in this text:

Primary stem/Secondary stem:
ren/ran-
gev/gav-
top/tap-

U-declension nouns also take the dative ending -us and ablative ending -un. (The fact that these nouns have -u- instead of -o- in these endings is what gives them their name.)

POSSESSION

Possession in Yivrian is indicated by infixing -i- into the final syllable (after the nuclear vowel), then adding one of several suffixes. The only suffix that occurs in this text is -la, the 3sg possessive suffix. E.g. kenda “king” => kendaila “his king”.

U-declension nouns form the possessive from the secondary stem given above, inserting the vowel -í- between the stem and the possessive suffix.

PLURAL

Plurals are formed by adding -r to the end of the word following a vowel, and -i following a consonant.

VERB MORPHOLOGY

ASPECT

All verbs in their citation form end in -ya. This indicates the “base” form of the verb. Other aspects of the verb are formed by changing this base ending:

-ya — base
-hya — causative
-vva — habitual

There are others (and there are subtleties even within these three), but they don’t concern the text so I’ve left them out.

The ending -ya is attached directly to the stem of the verb, while before -hya and -vva an epenthetic -a- is added.

VOICE

The first vowel of the verbal ending alternates to indicate voice.

-ya — active
-yo — passive
-yu — reflexive (not used, I think)

TENSE AND PHASE

After the first vowel of the verbal ending follows a consonant which indicates tense:

- (null) — present
-l — past
-n — future

Following this consonant, additional suffixes may occur to indicate “phase” (which is really another kind of aspect). In this text, only the suffix -a occurs, indicating progressive aspect.

Thus:

-ya — present simple active
-yaa — present progressive active
-yal — past simple
-yala — past progressive

VERBAL INFINITIVES

Verbs may form an infinitive by replacing the first vowel of the verbal ending with -é.

Infinitives are treated as nouns, and so may take nominal prefixes and suffixes. In particular, an infinitive with the dative ending -os indicates “in order to + INF”.

PARTICIPLES

Participles are formed by adding a special set of adjectival endings to a verbal stem which has had its final -ya (if any) removed. The participial endings are:

-en — active
-es — passive

MODAL PREFIXES

A verb may be prefixed with any of a set of seven prefixes to indicate mood, along with some other categories. The only modal prefix in this text is vo-, which is a general intensifier indicating “very” or “much so”.

MISCELLANEOUS

Adjectives can be derived from nouns by simple addition of the suffix -il. (Those words that only occur as adjectives in this text are simply listed in their adjectival form as such.)

Sequences of -nVn- are often reduced to -Vn- (i.e. the first /n/ is dropped. This also happens with other consonants, though I believe only with /n/ in this relay).

SYNTAX

WORD ORDER AND CASES

Yivrian syntax is SVO. Adjectives follow nouns, and prepositions precede their object. Generally both the subject and the object of a sentence are expressed in the “nominative” case above, as are objects of prepositions. However, following prepositions that are adverbal (i.e. modifying a sentence, not an NP) nouns must be in the ablative case.

Word order is somewhat flexible, so SOV and intransitive VS patterns also exist.

RELATIVE CLAUSES

Within a relative clause, the relative pronoun is NOT necessarily fronted. Rather, it retains whatever position it would normally have in the clause.

Furthermore, Yivrian distinguishes between “adjectival relative clauses”, which modify some other noun in the phrase, and “nominal relative clauses”, which occupy by themselves the place of some noun in the clause. This is an English example of an “adjectival relative”: “The person *who sings* is here.” And this is an example of a nominal relative: “*Whosoever might sing* is welcome.” Hopefully you know what I’m talking about.

The relative pronoun in adjectival relative clauses is *keth*, while the relative pronoun in nominal relative clauses is *katha*.

TENSE IN SUBORDINATE CLAUSES

Tense in subordinate clauses is relative to the tense of the main clause, i.e., if the main clause is in the past tense and the subordinate clause is simultaneous with the main clause, the verb of the subordinate clause must be expressed in the *present* tense. This applies to all subordinate clauses, included relative clauses.

I *hope* that’s all. Happy translating!

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Dec 14, 2005 8:35 am

The Awesomest Thing in the History of Awesome Things

There is a Wikipedia in Anglo-Saxon.

HT to tungol.

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