from all the ends of the earth
Once upon a time I already showed here a small excerpt from the travel notes of some guys. Finally got around to getting him properly dressed and groomed! Some of you have already seen this thing, but if you look at it a second time, it’s still okay.
Don’t be surprised by the abundance of dialectisms; this is a necessary stylization. The original looks about the same.
You can read it Here.
News!
I, as a jack-of-all-trades (paws?), continue to mock our long-suffering site. Or rather, over the wiki engine, which I added (ha!) to it.
If you follow the link https://re.wiki.marraidh.com/index.php/Geart_modern and look at the history of edits, you will understand the depth of the nightmare that I have been reveling in over the past few days. What we managed to do:
What we couldn't do:
Some technical work was also carried out in the VK group; To see the changes, just click the “Details” button at the top. In fact, nothing particularly interesting, just better sorting of our documents.
The next step is to add a page with the chronology of what is happening (and what happened) at our excavation site, otherwise you can easily get confused. And also - an interactive map of the world, on which we will mark... something. Well, of course, volkolak is being translated, articles are being written, and if there are any particularly interesting items, we’ll tell you about them too.
Sleep well and stay connected!
Today we have prepared for you some of the most ... albeit cute - ancient written monuments. When I say “ancient”, I really mean the oldest things that exist, such as Lavinavian runic inscriptions on stones, Rech birch bark letters and other similar things.
Go?
ᛖᚲ ᚷᛟᛞᚨᚷᚨᛊᛏᛁᛉ ᛊᚨᛏᛁᛞᛟ ᛊᛏᚨᛁᚾᚨ
ᚨᚢᚲ ᚦᚢ ᛖᚱᛁᛚᚨᛉ ᛖᛏ ᛊᚲᛁᛏᛁ
ek Godagastiz staido staina
auk þu Erilaz et skiti
“I, Godagast (= Good Guest), put a stone
And you, Eryl (= Husband; Jarl), eat shit"
Perhaps the reason for the destruction of the obelisk somehow indirectly relates to this inscription. In any case, he obviously did not fall by himself.
[arad mi-tan-gur-an-ni] an-nu-u be-lí an-[nu-u]
[ši-šìr-ma di-kan-ni-ma GIŠnarkab]ta ṣi-in-dam ana ēkalli lu-un-š[ur]
…
- Slave, agree with me!
— Yes, my lord, yes!
- Hurry up the chariot, harness it, in
palace I wish to go!
- Go, my lord, go! Will you
luck! When the king sees you, he will shower you with favors!
“No, slave, I don’t want to go to the palace!”
- Don't go, my lord, don't go! The king saw you
send on a long trip, make you go unknown
dear, make you suffer daily and nightly!
And so on, for a total of ten such passages.
“Then the god Haya-Susa-no-o-no mikoto to the Great Sacred Goddess Amaterasu oo-mi-kami said: “My intentions are pure and bright. Because of the children born by me - tender women I received. So, of course, I won,” so saying, in a riot of [his] victory, the borders on the cultivated fields of the Holy Goddess Amaterasu oo-mi-kami demolished, [irrigation] canals fell asleep.
And also - in the chambers where they taste the first food, he defecated and scattered the feces.
And so, although [he] did this, the Great Sacred Goddess Amaterasu oo-mi-kami, without reproaching [him], said: “It looks like a bowel movement, but it’s my brother - a god, probably, having vomited while drunk, he did it. And the fact that he demolished the boundaries, filled up the canals - this, probably, my brother - God, having regretted the earth, did this, ”she justified [him], but nevertheless his evil deeds did not stop, but became even uglier. At the time when the Great Sacred Goddess Amaterasu oo-mi-kami, being in the sacred weaving chamber, was weaving the clothes that are supposed to be for the gods, [the god Susa-no-o] broke through the roof of those weaving chambers and stripped the heavenly piebald stallion from its tail, thrown inside.
Then the heavenly weavers, seeing this, got frightened, pricked themselves with shuttles in secret places and died.
I could go on and on, actually, but it's getting long enough already, so I'll tie it up. Maybe someday there will be a sequel.
And now it’s not me who has the news, but my friend Zehar (who is still sitting here with us because he has a remote job and no one kicks him out of our house). But first things first.
I have already mentioned that the Eryakhshar Jearts once had a tradition of applying patterns with indelible paint to their fur, which served as a kind of passport: they denoted their occupation, some important feats, and what not. Alas, after the conquest of Eryakhshar by the Biniz, this tradition began to slowly fade away until it completely disappeared.
Then, when the Gearts received autonomy as part of Binisia about a century ago, a national revival began to slowly rise until it reached today's proportions; in all the media now you only hear about pickets, unrest, demonstrations and other things. And it is quite natural that long-forgotten traditions began to be revived!
So Zahar, captured by the revolutionary spirit, also made his first drawing, literally yesterday. There he is, in the photo!
(don't mind his stern expression, he's actually a very nice guy)
So we have come to the point for which all this sad poetic movement was started yesterday. Speaking about Beta traditions, it was not for nothing that I mentioned that they are traced back to the sixth century AD, or even earlier - here, hold the thing.
A quatrain written in the form which in modern Botian is called englyn unodl union, that is, “straight single-rhyming Anglin.” With the only difference: it was written in the fourth century AD.
This form is structured like this: the first line has 10 syllables, after the fifth of them there is a caesura. In all the rest - seven, with the last syllable of the last three lines and the seventh, eighth or ninth syllable of the first line rhyming.
Further, each of the lines uses the so-called kinhaned - a certain technique consisting in constructing a verse based on alliteration and internal rhymes. The codification of different ways of organizing alliteration appeared already in the Middle Ages, but even here it can be traced very well. The verse itself is below:
Te-welenn, carenn, carwọ annverthọ
Aberthon ti, ammarwọ
Berọn, arbruyọn rowọn,
Blọdowon blėidhion llọnọn.
Translation:
I saw you, desired you, beautiful doe,
Sacrifice to you, immortal,
I would bring it; then I would buy space,
Full of wolf flowers.
And let’s quickly sort it out line by line.
And finally, everywhere there is a rhyme (lax) in -ọ(n): carwọ,ammarwọ, rowọn, llọnọn.
It’s difficult to tell from the handwriting, but there is a strong suspicion that this is our old friend the werewolf, not least because of the “wolf flowers.”
Once upon a time, we uploaded readings of the first three rubai that we translated, and now keep all the rest. Well, their texts, of course.
Zōrīg ud sēzdēn hē - čašm-it wārānīg ast.
Tō sturg ud taftīg hē, bē xandag tārīg ast.
Dard, drō, paččībāgīh ī rēman waxš-it škast,
Bē dušxwārīh mā bāš - dōstān-it nazdīk ast.
Agar dil-it dard kunēd, tō zāyam: ma griy.
Agar frawahr hušk šawēd, tārīg ast - ma griy.
Zi sad, hazār mard amāwandtar hē, e zan!
Fradom xwad-it, farroxīh wind - ud tō pas griy.
Ēr tundīh ī wāzān tō tagīg waxš nihuft,
Ēr kādag ī wad-wāž tō burāg wīr nihuft.
Pērāmōn ī tō sangīg tarāzūg gardēd —
Čē rāy āsn-stī ī tō az abārīg nihuft?
Some time ago we already mentioned how, in an amazing way, songs can be preserved for centuries for a very long time, being passed down from generation to generation, and even a changing language is not a hindrance to this. Now we see something even more fun.
Given: a piece of birch bark with the text of the song in Protoruginsky. The song is long, with a lot of verses, so we only give the first verse and the chorus here. But the thing is - there is also a completely modern Viterskaya folk ballad, which is called Torsteins Kvaeri ("The Ballad of Thorstein") with almost completely identical text! See its text below to appreciate the similarity, and don't be too surprised: the spelling of the language is just very ... conservative.
Just think about it: fifteen centuries have passed, and the song is the same as it was. Madness.
On this musical note, we are going to wallow in the snow, and we leave you with a song and a bunch of lyrics.
Original, junior fufark:
ᚢᛁᛚᛁᚦ ᛁᛦ ᚼᛚᚢᚦᛅ ᚬᚴ ᛚᛁᚢᚦ ᚴᛁᚠᛅ ᛘᛁᛦ
ᛁᚴ ᛒᚱᚢᛏ ᛅᚠ ᛏᛁᛅᚱᚠᚢᛏᛅᛏᛁ
ᚴᚬᚾᚢᚾᚴᛦ ᚱᛁᚦ ᚾᚬᚱᚢᛁᚴᛁ
ᚼᛅᚾ ᛏᚬᚴᚢᛅ ᛋᚢᚾᛁ ᛅᛏᛁ
ᚱᛁᚾᛦ ᚬᚴ ᚱᛁᚾᛦ ᚠᚬᛚᛁ ᛘᛁᚾ
ᛅ ᚴᚱᚢᚾᛁ ᚴᚱᚢᚾᛏ ᚬᚴ ᚢᛁᚾ ᛒᛅᚱ ᚱᛅᚢᛏᛅ ᛚᚢᚾᛏ
ᛋᛏᛁᚴ ᛅᛏ ᛏᛅᚾᛋᛅ ᛋᛏᚢᚾᛏ
ᚴᛅᛏᛦ ᛚᛆᛁᚴᛦ ᚠᚬᛚᛁ ᛘᛁᚾ
ᛅ ᚴᚱᚢᚾᛁ ᚴᚱᚢᚾᛏ
Romance transcription:
vil(j)ið éʀ hlýða ok ljóð gefa méʀ
ek brýt af djǫrfutát(t)i
konungʀ réð norvegi
han(n) togva syni at(t)i
rin(n)ʀ ok rin(n)ʀ foli min(n)
á grœn(n)i grund ok vín bar rauða lund
stig at dansa stund
kátʀ leikʀ foli min(n)
á grœn(n)i grund
Modern Viter text:
Vilja tit lýða og ljóð geva mær,
Eg broti av bragdartati.
Kongur ráddi for Nøríki, hann tógva synir átti.
Rennur og rennur foli min
Grønari grund og vín bar reyða lund.
Stig at dansa stund.
Katur leikar foli min
Á grønari grund.
Translation:
Listen, and let there be silence,
I sing about brave men.
The king ruled Norway
He had two sons.
Runs and runs my foal
On the green land - and the wine brought a red mood.
Take a step to dance a little.
My foal plays happily
On green land.
More drawings!
This time another character we know, Emed. We can’t say anything special about his appearance, but we know that he was a Stur, so... well, look for yourself, in short.
Abstract: again about our good old characters, whose names we met. Why all of a sudden? Now I will explain.
So, we have already seen such a name (nickname?) as Motley (püstrüjü, quick in Prarechansky). We know about him that he:
Now we have found a thing. It seems to be banal: something like a metric book from Hvarsh, a village in Eryakhshara, for the year 328 AD. However, we read the following:
“Berezen: ... was born in a flock of Azura from people (J. masyāyzem), named Motley (J. Sexan), because his hair is not only blond (J. nāğ-ħotayna, "brown-sand"), but also white and black with different strands.
Do not ask: we ourselves do not really understand how a person could get into the tribe of the Eryakhshars and get into the metric book. Again, we continue to look further; in the meantime, keep a rough image of Motley from our artist - how, presumably, he could look.
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