Na’viteri.org

Kaltxì nìmun, ma eylan. Sìlpey oe, ayngaru livu fpom nìwotx ulte Ro Helku a Tì’usì’awn Anawm (the Great/Noble Staying-at-Home) ke livu ngäzìk nìhawng.

Here’s some new vocabulary that I hope you’ll find useful. (In retrospect, I see that some of this is on the dark side, which may be a sign of the times. But at least we end on a high note. 😊 )

äzan (n., ä.ZAN) ‘force, compulsion’

äzan si (vin.) ‘force, compel’

Fo äzan soli oer tsnì tsakem sivi.
‘They forced me to do it.’

(The syntax here is parallel to that of Poe mowar soli poanur tsnì hivum, ‘She advised him to leave.’)

äzanluke (adv., ä.ZAN.lu.ke) ‘voluntarily, without force or compulsion’

This word is partially synonymous with nìnew. For example, to say ‘I did it voluntarily’ you can say either Oe tsakem soli nìnew or Oe tsakem soli äzanluke. However, unlike nìnew, äzanluke can be also used on the part of the potential forcer to show that no force is being exerted:

Vin oel äzanluke futa nga kivä poehu.
‘I request, without compulsion, that you go with her.’
In other words: ‘I’m asking you to go with her, but I won’t force you.’

But:

Vin oel futa nga kivä poehu äzanluke.
‘I request that you go with her voluntarily.’

äzantu (n., ä.ZAN.tu) ‘domineering person; one who is bossy, authoritarian, or dictatorial’

nìsok (adv., nì.SOK) ‘recently’

kemuia (n., ke.MU.i.a) ‘dishonor’

This word is clearly derived from ke + meuia ‘honor.’

kemuia si (vin.) ‘dishonor’

Ngeyä tìfnawe’ kemuia soli fìsoaiaru.
‘Your cowardice has dishonored this family.’

tìfnawe’ (n., tì.fna.WE’)  ‘cowardice’

kemuianga’ (adj., ke.MU.i.a.nga’) ‘dishonorable’

Peyä hemìl akemuianga’ zamolunge fwìngit ayoer.
‘His dishonorable behavior (literally: actions) humiliated us (lit.: brought humiliation to us).’

tìkankxan (n., tì.kan.KXAN) ‘barrier to one’s goals, source of frustration’

This word is derived from tìkan ‘goal’ + ekxan ‘barrier, obstruction’—that is, a ‘goal barrier.’

Oeri mìftxele, fwa pol oeti ke slolan lu tìkankxan apxa.
‘In this regard, his not supporting me was a large barrier to (achieving) my goal.’

tìkankxanga’ (adj., tì.kan.KXA.nga’) ‘frustrating’

Fìtìfkeytokìl atìkankxanga’ ’eykerefu oet lekye’ung.
‘This frustrating situation is making me crazy.’

To say ‘frustrated,’ we use a different but related expression.

lekxan (adj., le.KXAN) ‘blocked, obstructed; frustrated’

Lu fìfya’o lekxan; ke tsun awnga sivalew.
‘The path is obstructed; we can’t proceed further.’

This word is also used metaphorically to indicate the experience of being frustrated—that is, feeling blocked or obstructed from reaching your goal:

Oe plltxe, po ke tìng mikyun. ’Efu oe lekxan nìtxan.
’I talk, but he doesn’t listen. I feel very frustrated.’

ftanglen (vtr., ftang.LEN, inf. 1,2) ‘prevent’

This word is obviously a compound of ftang ‘stop’ + len ‘happen’: to prevent something is to stop it from happening.

Tsranten nìtxan fwa ftanglen awngal futa fìsäspxin vivirä.
‘It’s very important that we prevent this disease from spreading.’

Derivation:

tìftanglen (n., tì.ftang.LEN) ’prevention’

Tìkan la’ayä ayll lu tìftanglen tìspxinä.
’The goal of social distancing is the prevention of disease.’

pxawtxap (vtr., pxaw.TXAP, inf. 2, 2) ‘squeeze’

The origin of this word is of course pxaw ‘around’ + txap ‘press.’ When you squeeze an object, you press it firmly with your fingers, usually with your hand encircling it to some extent.

Poel oey tsyokxit pxawtxolap a krr, poltxe nìfnu san nga yawne lu oer.
‘When she squeezed my hand, she silently said she loved me.’

vun (vtr.) ‘provide’

Sempulìl asìltsan vun syuvet soaiaru sneyä.
‘A good father provides food to his family.’

And now we know the Na’vi for an iconic Avatar expression:

Eywa vayun.
‘Eywa will provide.’

Finally, I’m delighted to present Vawmataw’s contest-winning narrative poem, “Sevafu.” I think you’ll find it evocative and poignant.

Hayalovay!

Sevafu

’Awlie lu ’evenge a poru fko syaw Sevafu.
Po kelku si mì sray hu Sa’nu sì Sempu.
Pxel frapo pxeforu lu txintìn letsranten.
Kifkeyri Sevafu nume, sa’nu wìntxu ulte sempu zamunge.
Slä sempul fìtxon ke tok kelkut maw kifkeyä tìzamusunge…

Sevafu plltxe san fìtrrkrrka pol na’rìngit folrrfatsen.
Pol fratrr zamunge kifkeyt lerìn fte piveng txonä vurit sìk,
Slä saronyul peng fayluta fkol pot ke rolun kip ayrìk.

Sevafu plltxe san fìtrrkrrka pol kilvanit molaktatso.
Pol fratrr zamunge kifkeyt lepay fte wivìntxu tìreyt sìk,
Slä aysleleyul peng fayluta fìtrr pol kilvanit ke molaktatso.
Sa’nul plltxe fayluta sngum rä’ä sivi maite.

Ulte tsakrr za’u sì ftem krr, fyeyn slu ’ite.
Sempu ke tätxaw, slä kawkrr ke fe’pey tsìlpey.

Trro Savaful pe’un futa kä fwew sneyä sempulit.
Sa’nu ke tsun poru tìftang sivi, Sevaful makto kilvanit.
Popxaw tìran ayutral ulte ayutral tìran popxaw.
Kllte hum ulte txampay piak si txana krrmaw.

Nì’awtu fa yaney Sevafu mì fay amawey fwi.
Kawtu ke ’eyng krra po fwefwi.
Pol tse’a tawti txonä sì payä ayweopxit.
Ayweopx ’ìp ulte pol ripx tawit.

sanhìyä txampay
maweya kifkey apxay
eo tìlor ’ia

Sevaful lang fìkifkeyt sì hifkeyt alahe.
Sempul kea tsenget. Ngian lu syura.
Pol ’efu sempuä syurat atxanwawe.

Ngal tse’a a fratanhì azusup tsakrrta
Lu Sevafuä po tsngawvìk a aungia
Aysempul tìreyt tìng awngaru
Slä nìmun ke tsun tivìng tsat foru.

Edit  23 May:  *po oeti ke slolan –> pol oeti ke slolan   Irayo, ma Plumps!

Ma eylan,

The judges have made their decisions, and the winners of the 2020 Säwäsultsyìp—the Na’vi Writing Contest announced here on March 27^th—have been chosen! The judging committee—Tirea Aean, Alyara, and Plumps—worked independently, but in the end, though “the scoring was very, very close,” they reached a unanimous decision. Four winners emerged. Here they are, along with their beautiful winning certificates designed by Tsyili with the help of Alyara and Tirea:

Category: Beginner-level Short Story
Winner: Tseyla, for “Eywa’evengä sì Eywa’evengä Helku Utralä ’Okrol”

Category: Intermediate/Advanced-level Short Story
Winner: Marloncori, for “’Okvur Ikran Maktoä”

Category: Beginner-level Poetry
Winner: Laura Garduño, for “Tì’eylan Set”

Category: Intermediate/Advanced-level Poetry
Winner: Vawmataw, for “Sevafu”

Ayngeyä aysängopìri atxantsan seykxel sì nitram, ma smuk! Seysonìltsan!

I’m going to publish one winning entry per post so each one can receive the attention it deserves. Here’s the first—Laura Garduño’s sngä’iyu-level poem, “Tì’eylan Set.” The other three will follow in subsequent posts. Inan nìprrte’!

Tì’eylan Set

Ti’eylan lu tsyeym tì’efumì oeyä.
Ngian, set, tì’eylanìl oeti ke lu tìstunwinga’
Mìaykrr mìso ulte tute lu lom,
Kawtul oeti wo
Na fo oeru twa’ si.

Oe stum kawkrr zìm le’awtu.
Lu letrrtrr oeru.
Slä ke ral oe ra’ä tare ayeylan.
Nigan, oel am’a pefya fol oeti kameie.

Skxakep talun hamalo awnga ultxa si
Oe lu fnu ulte keftxo talun oe ke tsun kä
Tswayon oeyä ikran ne ayram alusìng
Ulte kanom tì’o’ oe new.

Slä tsakem ke ral oe ve’kì mefo,
Fu oe ra’a si new kame mefoti nìmun.
Oe lu tang fratrr.
Oe lu fnu, slä mefo ke txung.

Peseng mefo lu?
Oel mefoti kameie, mefo plltxe.
Pesu oe lu meforu?
Mefol oeti kameie? Fu lahe?

Awnga käteng hu txankrr.
Ulte oel mefoti leioae si.
Slä mefol oeti leioae si?
Fu oel mefoti sratx kem si?

Zun mefo wrrza’u te wan ftu oe,
Lu nìnew
Fu tìkangkem?
Oe tìkin omum.

Oe zìm na toruk
Hu sna’o ayikran.
Oe kelku si le’awtu.
Fo ke lu.

Oe ve’ki ra’a si lu keteng
Fu hiyìk.

Oe ve’ki ra’a si zun mefol oeti ve’kì si.
Oe nìyey tìkin zun oe lu.

Pefya mefol oeti kameie?

Edit 10 May: Updated certificate images to the final versions; corrected text at end of par. 1 to: “beautiful winning certificates designed by Tsyili with the help of Alyara and Tirea.”

Kaltxì nìmun, ma frapo!

Before anything else, let me post the Na’vi text of Mako’s message, which you listened to last time. I think you’ll be able to understand it without the English translation:

Tengkrr fìsäspxinìl awngati srätx ulte helkumì awngeyä zene ’ivì’awn, lu krr asìltsan fte pamrel sivi. Lu pxaya ayu a fko tsun pamrel sivi. Kxawm nga nivew pamrel sivi ngeyä tireyteri. Kxawm nivew pamrel sivi wayur a plltxe fu rol. Ketsran new pamrel sivi, lu sute a new ivinan set. Tìng ngeyä aylì’ut sì aysäfpìlti foru.

And to wrap up this round of listening exercises, here’s a comment from Plumps on his story about an unusual friendship:

Some of you might have noticed an unusual phrase at the end of Ìstaw’s and Syuku’s story but you will probably have guessed its meaning from context.

slä hayalo alahe (ph., ha.YA.lo a.LA.he, lit.: another next time) – a set phrase in storytelling to mean ‘but this is for another time,’ which indicates that the story is so good that people want to hear more about it in multiple sittings.

The idea of set phrases in storytelling, especially in stories for children, seems to be common to a lot of languages. In English, of course, we have the iconic “once upon a time,” which is used in no other contexts. When I was studying Persian, I came across a very interesting one: “Yeki bud, yeki nabud.” Literally, this means “One was there, one wasn’t there,” or “There was one and there wasn’t one.” As some online commentators have noted, these words indicate that the story to come might be fact or fiction, true or not true, and they create a “warm, intimate feeling” in the listener. Can you think of any other such phrases in other languages?

Moving on to some new vocabulary:

tsawng (vin.) ‘shatter, break into pieces’

Note: There are several words for ‘break’ in Na’vi. Kxakx is to snap or break into two pieces, like a twig. Tsawng is to shatter or break into many pieces, like a piece of pottery. If something is broken in the sense of no longer functioning correctly, it’s fwel.

Ma sempu, oey yomyo tsolawng!
‘Daddy, my plate broke!’

Ma Entu, ngal lumpe ngey tsmukeyä yomyot tseykolawng?
‘Entu, why did you break your sister’s plate?’

pon (vtr.) ‘balance’

Fwa pon seyti sìn kinamtil lu lehrrap, ma ’itan. Tsun nekll zivup tsawng.
‘Balancing a cup on your knee is dangerous, son. It can fall to the ground and break.’

(Note: In the above example, zivup and tsawng are “sequential verbs.” As you recall, two verbs in sequence without a conjunction indicate that the second action occurs right after the first. In this case, tsivawng would be correct as well, since that verb is also in the scope of tsun; the cup can fall and can break.)

Nìsngä’i Tsyeyk lu pìsaw ulte ke tsun vulsìn päpivon.
‘At first Jake was clumsy and wasn’t able to balance on a branch.’

mei (adj., ME.i) ‘wet’

Kllte lu mei a krr, fwa fwi lu ftue.
‘When the ground is wet, it’s easy to slip.’

(I like the sound of fwa fwi lu ftue!)

Note: Unlike paynga’, which indicates that something is moist or damp, mei indicates complete wetness.

meitayo (n., me.i.TA.yo) ‘wetlands’

This word is derived from mei ‘wet’ and txayo ‘field, plain.’ In colloquial speech, it’s usually pronounced meytayo.

lipx (vin.) ‘drip’

Tompa zerup ulte pay lipx kxamlä fäpyo.
It’s raining and water is dripping through the roof.

fäpyo (n., FÄP.yo) ‘roof’

This word comes from fäpa ‘top’ + yo ‘surface.’ (Cf. kxemyo ‘wall, vertical surface’)

Another Na’vi proverb:

Payìl a lipx tskxeti ripx.
‘Dripping water pierces a stone.’

That is, persistent effort can accomplish unexpected and amazing things.

sälipx (n., sä.LIPX) ‘drop (of a liquid)’

We’ve already seen the word payìva, which specifically means ‘drop of water.” Sälipx is more general—a drop of any liquid, for example tree sap or blood.

kxutslu (n., KXU.tslu) ‘risk’

The evolution of this word occurred in several steps. Risk is the possibility (tìtsunslu) of harm (kxu), or a harm-possibility. This evolved in Na’vi as:

kxu + tìtsunslu = kxutìtsunslu > kxutsunslu > kxutslu

lekxutslu (adj., le.KXU.tslu) ‘risky’

Awnga zenke fìkem sivi. Lu lekxutslu nìhawng.
’We mustn’t do this. It’s too risky.’

Finally, a note on grammar:

Even at this late date, there’s a grammatical word we haven’t yet seen.

We’re all used to these familiar contractions that serve as conjunctions:

fwa (= fì’u a)
fula (= fì’ul a)
futa (= fi’ut a)
furia (=fì’uri a)

There’s another one to add to that list, although it’s used less frequently than the others.

How would you say, ‘This message confirms that he will come’?

Well, ‘confirm’ is kangay si, a si-verb. As we know, si-verbs take objects in the dative case, as in Srung si oeru! ‘Help me!’ But here, the object of kangay si is not a noun or pronoun but rather a clause (‘that he will come’). So we need a conjunction involving fì’u in the dative case, which would be fì’uru a or fì’ur a. Just as fì’u a contracts to fwa, fì’ur a contracts to fura.

So our sentence is:

Fì’upxare kangay si fura po zaya’u.
‘This message confirms that he will come.’

I have a bit more to say about this topic, . . . slä hayalo alahe. 😊

Edit 28 Aug.: zene ivì’awn –> zene ’ivì’awn  Irayo, ma Tekre!

Ma smuk,

Sìlpey oe, ayngaru vivar livu fpom nìwotx.

Here’s the last listening exercise of the current batch, this time from our Mako. It’s a brief message encouraging you to do something. As before, please listen several times and see how much you can get. The text and translation will be in the next post.

And here, as promised, is Plumps’s transcription of his story, which you listened to last time, along with his English translation:

Ayngaru fìvurit a tì’eylanteri Ìstawä sì Syukuä

New oe piveng ayngar teri zeya tì’eylan. Zey pelun? Taluna fìtì’eylan lu pum a mìkam tutan sì syaksyuk. Srekrr ke lolen fìtìfkeytok kawkrr. Fìtì’eylanìri pefya len, set tìng mikyun …

Txono krra tutan a’ewan alu Ìstaw tarmìng nari pxawparo txanlokxeyä, tsìk stolawm pol hawmpamti astxong a mì na’rìng. Olomum pol futa kea snanantang ke sim. Slä nìfkeytongay smon poru frazawr na’rìngä; tafral olomum futa fìzawr syaksyukta za’u. Pole’un pol futa nari si keynven ne pamä tsim.

Nì’i’a rolun pol syaksyukä linit a mì tal lolu poru txukxa skxir a ftu ’etnaw askien ne mepun aftär. Lam fwa skxir za’u ta säfrìp nantangä. Tsari reypay wrrzera’u.

Hufwa Ìstaw nari sarmi tengkrr lerok, tsatutanìri fìswirätsyìp txopu soli nìtxan kuma new hivifwo nìwin, slä ftxey tsyìl ftxey tskawr ke tsolunslu. Fte syaksyuktsyìpit sleykivu mawey, Ìstawl poru stxenutolìng rina’ti sì mautiti a mol’an pol nìsyen. Polängkxo Ìstaw kop swirätsyìphu nìmwey nì’angosì ulte nìngay lam fwa sngolä’i ’ewana tsatutan mal livu syaksyukur.

Keng tolung pol Ìstawru futa sìn skxir yem ’umtsat a holena li pol mì sämunge, fteke reypay vivar wrrziva’u—ulte, irayo Eywaru, flolä. ’A’awa txono ahay Ìstaw ioanglok ’olì’awn fte poru tìhawnu sivi ulte vivar skxirti vivewng.

Tìmweypey ’ewana Na’viyä soleia. Nì’i’a tsolun ioang tsyivìl nìmun ulte polähem krr a plltxe san kìyevame sìk. Srefwa syaksyuk holum, poru Ìstaw syaw Syuku. Mefeyä tì’eylanìri azey fko tsun piveng nì’ul … slä hayalo alahe.

Meforu Eywata livu syawn.

≈≈≈≈≈≈

Tìralpeng:

I present to you this story about Ìstaw’s and Syuku’s friendship

I want to tell you about a special friendship. Why is it special? It’s special because it’s a friendship between a man and a Prolemuris. That had never happened before. Listen now how this friendship came about …

One night, while a young man named Ìstaw had the watch at the border of his country, he suddenly heard a strange unexpected noise in the forest. He knew that there was no viperwolf pack nearby. But as a matter of fact he was familiar with every animal cry of the forest; therefore he knew that this cry had come from a Prolemuris. He decided to carefully step to the source of the sound.

Finally he came upon a Prolemuris youngling that had a deep wound on its back from its right shoulder to its two left arms. It seemed the wound came from a bite of a viperwolf. Blood was coming out of it.

Although Ìstaw approached carefully, the little creature was so afraid of that person that it wanted to quickly flee but neither climbing nor limping was possible. In order to calm down the little Prolemuris, Ìstaw offered it seeds and fruits which it accepted in the end. Ìstaw also spoke with the little creature calmly and softly and truly it seemed that the Prolemuris started to trust that young man.

It even allowed  Ìstaw to put medicine, which he had already carried in his pouch, on the wound to stop the bleeding – and, thanks to Eywa, it was successful. For the next several nights Ìstaw stayed near the animal in order to protect it and keep tending to the wound.

The patience of the young Na’vi was worth the while. Finally the animal could climb again and it was time to say goodbye. Before Prolemuris left, Ìstaw named him Syuku, and there is more to tell about their friendship … but this is for another time.

May they both have Eywa’s blessing.

≈≈≈≈≈≈

Srake fayskxekeng a mikyunfpi solunu ngaru? Lolu aysa’u lesar srak? Tsafya oe sìlpey!

EDIT 12 April:  I forgot to add but meant to: For those who celebrate, Happy Easter. Happy Passover. I hope this special time is as good as it can be for you under the circumstances.

Hayalovay!

ta Pawl

For our next listening exercise, I’m delighted to present a story written and recorded by Plumps aka Stefan. As you’ll see, it’s about a tì’eylan azey—a special friendship. Fpìl oe, fìvur zayawprrte’ ayngane! Stefan’s reading sounds very much to me like how a Na’vi parent would tell a child a story before bedtime. Listen for colloquial pronunciations like fta for futa and smunge for sämunge. You’ll find the Na’vi text and English translation in the next post.

One new vocabulary item, which I’m sure you’d be able to figure out on your own:

säfrìp (n., sä.FRÌP) ‘a bite’

Enjoy!

And here, as promised, are the Na’vi texts and English translations of Neytiri’s poems, which you listened to last time. Try listening again, this time following the text, to see what you got and what you may have missed.

1
’Orayä tìvawmmì
Snatanhìtsyìp srerew
Äo ’oma paysyul
Pey srakat

In the murkiness of a lake
A cluster of stars dances
Beneath a purple water lily
A dinicthoid waits

2
’Awa slär a wäpan
A teya ta atan
Sì ayngam syananä
Mì swotu

One cave, hidden
Full of light
And the echoes of a waterfall stream
In a sacred place

3
Snautralä aswok
Ayvulit hufwel slayk
Koaktan aho
Fko stolawm

A sacred grove
The wind combs its branches
An old man prays
And is heard

4
Spuwina swaynivi
Palon eo awnga
Leioae si
’Awsiteng

Set mipa swaynivi
Soaiafpi txay
Sä’eoio si
Nìolo’

The old hammock
Burns before us
We pay respect
Together

Now the new hammock
Lies flat for the family
We perform the ritual
As a clan

5
Vultsyìp atsleng
Sìn ìpxayä rìk
Fì’ut ftivem
Tse’a tìngayit
Mìn ìlä ya
Sälatem a’o’
’Oma atan
Tsakrr ìpxat wo
Tätxaw ne rìk
Kllza’u ta’em
Tsurokx yosìn
Tsavultsyìp atsleng

False twig
Upon the leaf of a fern
Pass by it
And see the truth
Turning through the air
An exciting transformation
Magenta light
Then reaching for the fern
It returns to its leaf
Descending from above
To rest upon the surface
The false twig

6
Loreyu

Lora ìheyu
Ìlä ho’on
Kllkxerem
Nìmwey

Zize’ lenomum
Kom ’ivampi
Nolui
’Asap

Beautiful spirals
In a circle
They’re standing
Calmly

A curious wasp
Daring to touch
Messes up
A shock

Hayalovay!

Kxì, ma frapo.

I’ve now received some great Na’vi recordings from members of our lì’fyaolo’, which I’ll be delighted to present to you, in the order in which I received them, in this and subsequent blog posts. As before, I’ll first post the spoken Na’vi only, urging you to see how much you can understand just through listening. Then I’ll publish the Na’vi text and English translation in the next post.

The first contribution is from our own Neytiri: six brief, evocative poems about Pandora and Na’vi life. Rather than me telling you about them, I’ll let Neytiri do that in her own words:

 “[Oeyä aywayri,] txampxì lu waytsyìp a teri Eywa’eveng sì reyfya leNa’vi. Oe fmoli ngivop fyina aywayt a tsari lam fwa nìngay zola’u ftu Eywa’eveng.

 “The bulk of these way are my attempt making a traditional, ‘indigenous’ short poetry form for Na’vi, like a haiku, or the Filipino tanaga. The skeleton is the structure of the Spiral Song’s beginning. I loved the rhythm . . . :

Pamtseol [Pamtsewl] ngop ayrenut
Mì ronsemä tìfnu
Tengfya ngop säftxuyul
Mì hifkey.

“So [the first three of] these way have four lines, with syllables of 6, 6, 6, 3. [The fourth has two such stanzas: 6, 6, 6, 3; 6, 6, 6, 3.—PF] Other things like rhyme scheme and the exact stress pattern vary. I also liked the idea of them being similar in that the last 3 syllable line carries the ‘punch’. Sometimes it’s mystery, excitement, danger, or some kind of twist in the tone. Most importantly, however, they had to be truly Pandoran; they all must either describe a natural Pandoran scene, or a piece of Na’vi culture. The hammock poem [#4] is about a real Na’vi tradition of respectfully burning an old swaynivi, for example. There are some other styles in there that could make for some good listening exercises, like Vultsyìp Atsleng [#5] (can you guess what it’s about? 😁).

“I think that Na’vi poetry is the most beautiful because of the kato and pamuvan possibilities, and that’s what I try to play around with the most.”

Just one more thing: As I’ve said previously, in any language, poetry is more difficult to follow than prose. After all, what is poetry but the extraordinary—not the ordinary—use of language! So don’t be discouraged if you find Na’vi poetry challenging. Listen to the recordings as many times as you need to, check the dictionary when necessary, and I bet you’ll get a lot out of them.

Fayway ayngane zivawprrte’!

Way A’awve:

Way Amuve:

Way Apxeyve:

Way Atsìve:

Way Amrrve:

Way Apuve—Loreyu:

Makto zong slä ro helku ’ì’awn.

Hayalovay.

Kaltxì nìmun, ma smuk.

I hope everyone is managing as well as can be expected during these difficult times.

I have three things to mention to you today:

First and foremost, we’re having another Na’vi writing contest! As with past contests, this new one is organized not by me but by members of the lì’fyaolo’ and will be judged by them as well. As before, I’ll be delighted to publish the winning entries here on the blog.

Here are the rules and details from our tsmuke alu Alyara:

We would like to announce the start of this year’s Na’vi Writing Contest!
The rules are simple:

1. All submissions must be original works and completely in the Na’vi language.
2. Your submission may be in the form of an essay (limit: 1,000 words), a short story (limit: 1,500 words), or poetry (limit: 500 words).
3. You have your choice of two themes: either (1) the more specific topic of the myths, tales, and legends of the Na’vi people; or (2) the broader subject of friendship, and what it means to you. (Please note: Lightstorm has asked us to refrain from speculative writing about any future events that might be addressed in the upcoming films.)
4. Please categorize yourself as a beginner or intermediate/advanced learner, since we will be judging submissions at these levels separately.
5. All works will be assigned random numbers by a third party before blind judging.
6. Only one submission per author, please.
7. Prizes awarded may vary depending on participation.
8. All entries must be received by Friday, April 17^th.
9. Email your submissions as attachments to:
   zlepperburgart (AT) gmail (DOT) com

Furia inan ayngeyä aysängopit leNa’vi, oe srefereiey nìprrte’!

Second, let me post the Na’vi text and English translation for the listening exercise in the previous post:

Na’vi text:

Ma eylan ayawne, kaltxì.

Sìlpey oe, ayngaru livu fpom nìwotx. Tsyanur sì oeru leiu fpom sì fra’u a kin.

Kezemplltxe, talun tìvirä fìsäspxinä alu koronavirusì, lolatängem kifkey, lolatängem tìrey. Ulte zusawkrrìri txopu si tute apxay. Kxawm set ’u angäzìk frato lu la’a ayll. Zene awnga ro helku ’ivì’awn. Ke tsun wrrkivä fte tìkangkem sivi. Ke tsun mäpiveyam fìtsap.

Ha new oe ayngaru pivlltxe san Siva ko! Fìsäspxinìl ke txayung awngey sìreyti tì’i’avay krrä. Aysìngäzìk lefkrr ’ayìp, srayer nìmun tìrey letrrtrr.

Tsakrrvay, ma smuk, rutxe livek aysänumet sì horenit amip. ’Ì’awn ro helku pxìm txantxewvay. Yur mesyokxit alo apxay krrka trr. Ftu sute alahe fmi neto rivikx nì’it. Ulte txo smivon ngar ayhoaktu, ftxey soaiamì ftxey sko eylan, foti palang fte tsivun ivomum teyngta ftxey lu foru fpom fuke.

Fmal tìkxuket, ma eylan, ulte var livu lefpomtoxk.

Eywa awngahu nìwotx.

English translation:

Hello, dear friends. I hope you’re well. John and I are fine and have everything we need.

Needless to say, due to the coronavirus, the world has changed, life has changed. And many people fear for the future. Perhaps the most difficult thing of all right now is the social distancing. We have to stay at home. We can’t go out to work. We can’t hug each other.

So I want to say to all of you: Courage! This disease will not disrupt our lives forever. The current difficulties will vanish, ordinary life will appear again.

In the meantime, brothers and sisters, please follow the new guidelines and rules. Stay home as often as possible. Wash your hands many times a day. Keep back a bit from other people. And if you know older folks, whether in your family or as friends, contact them to find out if they’re well.

Stay safe, friends, and stay healthy.

May Eywa be with us all.

And lastly, tstunkem si oer rutxe, ma eylan.

tstunkem (n., TSTUN.kem) ‘favor, act of kindness’

This word is derived from tstunwi ‘kind’ + kem ‘action, deed.’ Although written tstunkem, it’s usually pronounced tstungkem.

tstunkem si (vin.) ‘do a favor’

tstunkemtsyìp (n., TSTUN.kem.tsyìp) ‘little favor’

Tstunkem si oer rutxe.
‘Please do me a favor.’

Tung oer futa vin tstunkemit ngata.
’Let me ask you a favor.’

Some months ago I asked for submissions of material for listening exercises, and a few of you were kind enough to answer the call and send me some fine work. Unfortunately, due to circumstances at the time, I didn’t follow through with posting these submissions, for which I apologize. But I’d like to begin doing that now. Ha tung oer futa vin tstunkemit ayngata. If you still have the emails you originally sent me, which I hope you do, could you please resend them along with the attachments? I’d really appreciate it. As I think you all know: frommer (AT) marshall (DOT) usc (DOT) edu  Irayo nìtxan.

Stay safe and healthy, everyone.

Hayalovay.

A little message to all my friends in our lì’fyaolo’: (New vocabulary is explained below.)

tìvirä (n., tì.vi.RÄ) ‘spread, proliferation’

wrrkä (vin., wrr.KÄ, inf. 2,2) ‘go out, go outside’

txung (vtr.) ‘disturb, disrupt, bother, affect negatively’

Note the following common expression:

Oey fpomit txung rä’ä!
‘Don’t bother me!’

palang (vtr., PA.lang, inf. 1,2) ‘contact (in a social sense), communicate with’

Derived noun:

tìpalang (n., tì.PA.lang) ’(social) contact’

Pohu ke lu oeru kea tìpalang kaw’it.
’I have no contact with him whatsoever.’

Also note this useful expression:

Palang ko!
‘Keep in touch!’

BTW, if anyone would like to leave a comment about how you’re doing and how things are where you are, either in English or in Na’vi, that would be fine.

Stay safe, my friends. Hayalovay.

ta Pawl

Kaltxì, ma frapo!

Is it already Leap Year Day? It’s hard to believe! Kä krr pesengne?

Here are a few new words I hope you’ll find useful:

smaw (vtr.) ‘approve of’

Fayhemit oel smaw nìwotx.
‘I completely approve of these actions.’

natxu (vtr., na.TXU, inf. 1,2) ‘disapprove of’

Oel ngeyä tìhawlit natxu ulte tsawä wasyem.
‘I disapprove of your plan and will oppose (fight against) it.’

Derived nouns:

tìsmaw (n., tì.SMAW) ‘approval’

Moeyä tìmuntxari tìsmaw ngeyä oeru teya si.
‘Your approval of our marriage fills me (with joy).’

tìnatxu (n., tì.na.TXU) ‘disapproval’

la’um (vin, LA.’um, inf. 1,2) ’pretend’

Plltxe po san nga yawne lu oer sìk, slä la’um nì’aw.
‘He says he loves you, but he’s only pretending.’

This intransitive verb is used with tsnì:

Lumpe nga la’um tsnì ke tsun srivew?
Why are you pretending (that) you can’t dance?’

Derived noun:

tìla’um (n., tì.LA.’um) ‘pretence’

Furia ke tsun tìkangkem sivi, peyä säspxin lu tìla’um nì’aw.
‘As for not being able to work, his illness is only a pretence.’

tsaktap (n., TSAK.tap) ‘violence’

letsaktap (adj.) ‘violent’

tsaktap si (vin.) ‘be violent, use violence’

Tsaktap rä’ä si kawkrr mungwrrtxo ke livu kea fya’o alahe.
‘Never use violence unless there is no other way.’

Note in the previous example:

mungwrrtxo (conj., mung.WRR.txo) ‘unless, except if’

As in the example, this conjunction is usually used with the subjunctive (here, livu). In casual conversation it’s usually pronounced mungwrrto.

Make sure you distinguish between mungwrrtxo and mungwrr fwa ‘except that’:

Poru ke poleng oel ke’ut mungwrr fwa Ralul ke tsatsenget.
’I told her nothing except that Ralu wasn’t there.’

And a note about colloquial grammar:

In casual conversation, tok can be omitted when it’s easily understood. The nouns, however, still retain the same case marking they would have if tok were present. For example:

Pol tok fìtsenget.  –> Pol fìtsenget.
‘He’s here.’

Pol ke tok fìtsenget. –> Pol ke fìtsenget.
‘He’s not here.’

I have a lot of great submissions for listening exercises that I still haven’t gotten to, but I will. Rutxe maweypivey nulkrr nì’it, ma eylan. 😊

More soon, I hope.

Hayalovay!

Kaltxì, ma frapo.

As the year changes, I want to take this opportunity to thank you all so much for being part of our lì’fyaolo’—a wonderful language community comprised of creative, supportive, dedicated people who are keeping Na’vi alive and flourishing. Furia var aynga nìwotx fìlì’fyati sivar ulte tsar srung sivi fte ’ivong lu txana meuia oer. Irayo, ma smuk.

I now have some excellent listening exercises that several of you have contributed, which I’ll publish here in the near future. For now, though, just a few new words before 2019 officially ends, at least here in California:

lìktap (adj., LÌK.tap) ‘crooked’

This word is the opposite of yey ‘straight.’

Ke tsun fko fìswizawti sivar—lu lìktap.
’This arrow can’t be used—it’s crooked.’

ventil (n., VEN.til) ‘ankle’

Similar to the other –til words we’ve seen—kinamtil ‘knee’ and pxuntil ‘elbow’—ventil is derived from venu ‘foot’ + til ‘joint.’

hupx (vtr.) ‘miss, not hit a target’

Hupx is the opposite of takuk in its sense of ‘hit a target.’

Txewìl yerikit kolan slä hängupx.
’Txewì aimed at the hexapede but unfortunately missed.’

In this example, note that you don’t have to repeat the perfect infix <ol>, since the completion aspect has already been established by kolam. It wouldn’t be wrong to say holängupx, but it’s not necessary.

And two words for living areas or collections of dwellings larger than a tsray ‘village’:

tsawtsray (n., TSAW.tsray) ‘small or medium-sized city’

From tsawl ‘large’ + tsray. The l dropped over time.

txantsawtsray (n., txan.TSAW.tsray) ‘large city, metropolis’

Mipa Zìsit Lefpom, ma frapo! Eywa ayngahu nìwotx frakrr.

Edit 1 Jan.: *kolam –> kolan  Irayo, ma Stefan!