Another local relay was held in Berlin during November 2024. This time, I had the pleasure to translate from Henrik’s ɮɛ̃̂.kɔ̌ʔ as the last person in a circle of seven participants. Thus, I returned my torch back to Bruno, who had started the game, and who translated my Ayeri text into his Paksuta to conclude. Again, the game was run in German due to the limited, local scope. The base text was a version of Aesop’s fable The fox and the grapes.

The story that reached me was about a fox’s repeated but unsuccessful attempts to reach and eat a juicy grape growing on top of a vine in a vinyard during summer. The fox gives up eventually and leaves. The text seems to conclude with an enigmatic prediction that the wine will really be sour.

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According to my interpretation of Henrik’s rendition, this is the text that reached me:

A day had ended. An older day had ended. A night had ended. An older night had ended. In the summer, our fox came walking into the vinyard. When he arrived, he looked up and saw that a few ripe grapes were growing high up on a vine of the vinyard. Our fox said, “I am really hungry and thirsty.”

Our fox tried with force to reach for [the grapes]. With strength he jumped up but remained unsuccessful in his attempt. Many times he tried, and again and again desired to eat [them]. In the end he gave up. Our fox raised his nose and walked away. Maybe because of this: The wine was really sour. The story is over. This is being told among people.

While the sense of the original fable stayed largely intact, the end was slightly mangled by the confusion between the verbs for ‘said’ and ‘could’ mid-game according to everyone’s notes that we’ve since shared, so Henrik had translated the sentence about the fox’s parting words as “For this reason he could: ‘Verily, the wine will be sour.’”

This is the Ayeri text I passed on to Bruno for the final translation:

Ang kimbyo iri perin kolunas samanganyam samang. Ang sahasayo adauyi runay nimpurivanya matayya. Kengyong, ya yomayo ling nusan betayjang-aril vilay. Da-sitang-ningyo runayang: “Mabyang ancu nay tapanyang māy. Linku-linku vitryam betayjas gali.”

Nimpyo runayang nay pucong, nārya ya sahoyyong nasay-ma betayye. Linkayong palunganyam, sahoyyong nārya. Li-linkayong ikananyam. Ang tunyo māy konjam rey. Rua subryong panca nārya. Ang da-ringyo runay vinās yona nay sarayong. Yamanreng yoming edaley: Nimpurang prasi ancu. Ang da-ningyan keynamye sitanyayam.

Again, I won’t translate the full commentary into English. The Ayeri text corresponds to the following text in (idiomatic) English, however:

The sun had hunted the moon a hundred million times. Back then, a fox used to come into the vinyard during the summer. He noticed that a number of ripe grapes were growing at the top of the vines. And the fox said to himself: “I am really hungry and very thirsty. Let us try to capture the juicy grapes.”

The fox ran and jumped, but he did not get close enough to reach the grapes. He tried again, but could not reach them. He tried again and again. He longed so much to eat the grapes. Finally, he had to give up after all. There he lifted his nose and walked away. Maybe this was the reason: The wine was really sour. This is being told among people.

All in all, it was fun as usual to delve into a text in an unknown language and to analyze it based on a set of supplementary notes. ɮɛ̃̂.kɔ̌ʔ made glossing the text rather easy due to its very agglutinative morphology, despite the phonological perfidities of its regressive spread of syllable onset features and its very complex syllable structure. Surprisingly, no new vocabulary items had to be coined this time, nor was it necessary to extend the meaning of old ones.

When we met up to share our notes and read our texts, we briefly mused about what could be used as a text that’s less obvious so that translations are more likely to go off rail. Also, I feel a little like I ought to come up with something that’s not Ayeri for a/the next round in order not to bore everyone?

Bonus track pi toki pona

namako la, mi alasa ante e toki pi musi ni tawa toki pona. toki musi pi jan Eso li suli ala la, ni li pali pona pi kama sona. tan la, mi kepeken lipu jan Sose Seka pi toki Inli. mi wile e ni: mute pakala li lili. 😅

(Additionally, I tried to translate the story into Toki Pona. Since Aesop’s fables aren’t very long, it was a good studying exercise. As a source, I used Jacobs’ book in English. I hope there are few mistakes.)

soweli loje en kili telo

tenpo seli wan la, soweli loje li kama lon ma kili. tawa ona la, ona li kama lon poka pi kili telo. kili li kama suwi lon luka kasi, lon sewi a. soweli li toki e ni: “pona a! mi moku e ona la, wile mi pi moku telo li weka.”

ni la, soweli li tawa monsi, li open tawa wawa, li tawa sewi! taso, ona li kama ala lon poka kili. kepeken wan! tu! mute! la, ona li tawa sewi sin. taso, pini ona li pona ala. tenpo mute la, ona li alasa kama jo e moku suwi pi wile ona a. taso la, pini alasa li awen ike la, alasa ona li kama pini. ona li tawa la, ona li sewi e nena ona, li toki e ni: “mi pilin wawa e ni: ona li ike a tawa pilin uta.”

sina ken ala kama jo e ijo la, ni li wile ala e ken wawa: sina toki ike e ona.

toki Inli la, ni li o toki e ni:

(In English, it says it’s supposed to say this:)

The red animal and the juicy fruit

One summer, a red animal came into the garden. On its way, it came by a juicy fruit. The fruit was ripening on a branch up high. The animal said: “How nice! If I eat it, my thirst will go away.”

Thus, the animal reversed, started to run, and jumped up! But it didn’t get close to the fruit. With a one! two! three!, it jumped again. But it didn’t succeed. Many times it tried to get the sweet food it so desired. However, since its attempts kept ending badly, its attempts came to an end. When it went [off], it raised its nose, and said: “I’m convinced: it tastes really bad.”

When you can’t get a thing, it doesn’t need great ability to talk badly of it.