Na’viteri.org

Ma eylan,

Tse . . . kezemplltxe, txankrr oel ke tolok fìtsenget. I’ve been busy with things professional and personal that have kept me away, but I’m glad to be back in touch with you all, especially now that excitement is building for the advent of Txep sì Txeva. (See below!)

Before I get to the new vocabulary, let me mention a couple of things I’ve been doing, or will do soon, that I’d like to share with you.

First, a few days ago I attended a book-launching event for Jon Landau’s posthumous memoir, The Bigger Picture: My Blockbuster Life & Lessons Learned Along the Way.

It was a big gathering in a private section of an upscale Japanese restaurant here in Los Angeles, and very well attended. People spoke movingly about Jon, both in person and on video. James Cameron was there, along with Jon’s wife and sons. I had the chance to talk with some Avatar people I hadn’t seen in a while, including the composer Simon Franglen and the actor Joel David Moore, who of course played Norm Spellman. It was a wonderful and uplifting evening.

Also related to Avatar, I completed a little project that you might get a kick out of, once the Blu-ray disc of A3 becomes available. I’ll leave it at that for now. 😉

And for the third time, I’ll have the privilege of attending an Avatar opening. Fire and Ash premieres on Monday, December 1, here in Hollywood. I can’t wait!

OK, on to the new words and expressions. A few of these were LEP submissions—irayo nìfrakrr! And who knows—perhaps some of them might be useful to keep in mind as you’re watching A3. 🙂

txeva (n., TXE.va) ‘ash’

As you know, we already have the word txepìva meaning ‘ash (of a fire.)’ Txeva is a shortened form of the word known to all the clans but used especially by the Ash People.

And so, Avatar: Fire and Ash is, in Na’vi, Uniltìrantokx: Txep sì Txeva.

Speaking of the new clans you’ll encounter in A3, you’ve doubtless heard of the Mangkwan (Ash People) and the Tlalim (Windtraders). These names have already appeared in the media. I suspect you’ve noticed they do not obey the standard rules of Na’vi word formation. The explanation is that these spellings represent how the names are colloquially pronounced. Mangkwan “should be” Mangkuan, and Tlalim “should be” Tìlalim. But the forms in standard spelling have three syllables (Mang.ku.an, Tì.la.lim), while in colloquial pronunciation they only have two. If you’re composing a text in Na’vi and you want to include these clan names, you can choose between the nonstandard colloquial spellings or the standard ones—it’s up to you.

keri (adj., KE.ri) ‘fierce’

Keri can be used either for people (tsamsiyu akeri ‘fierce warrior’) or things (aylì’u akeri ‘fierce words’). As an example of this latter use, note this proverb in the form of a short poem:

Aylì’u akeri
Lekxu to tìtseri.
’Fierce words can be more harmful than you think.’

This has been shortened from the full form of the expression, Aylì’u akeri tsun lekxu livu nì’ul to tìtseri, which, while perhaps clearer, isn’t nearly as memorable. Recall the idiom to tìtseri ‘than is apparent, than you are aware of.’

lekxu (adj., le.KXU) ‘harmful’

fleyul (n., FLEY.ul) (RN: fleyùl) ‘falsehood, falsity’

The expected word for this concept, tìtsleng, is also possible:

tìtsleng (n., tì.TSLENG) ‘falsehood, falsity’

But fleyul is more commonly used.

Fleyul aylì’uä peyä law slolu frapor.
‘The falsity of his words became clear to everyone.’

Fleyulìl pot skola’a.
‘Falsehood destroyed her.’

palate (vin., pa.LA.te, inf. 2,3) ‘crumble, fall apart, disintegrate’

Tsanivi atxawnula nìfe’ hufwemì palolate.
‘That poorly constructed hammock fell apart in the wind.’

kxew (intj.) ‘expression of disappointment or frustration when things don’t go as planned’

This useful word is used like the English expressions Nuts! Darn! Damn!

Kxew! Oey tsko tsìlmawng!
‘Damn! My bow just broke into pieces!’

fpal (vtr.) ‘honor or fulfill a commitment or undertaking’

Oey fänut oel fpal frakrr.
‘I always keep my promises.’

Ngal kea tsonit ke fpal kawkrr!
‘You never fulfill your obligations!’

uturtu (n., u.TUR.tu) ‘refugee, person in need of uturu’

Zene awnga fayuturtur srung sivi.
‘We must help these refugees.’

kakzir (adj., kak.ZIR) ‘numb’

Compare this word to the other kak– words we’ve had relating to the lack of certain senses—kakrel ‘blind,’ kakpam ‘deaf,’ kakmokri ‘mute.’

Pori pxun kakzir latsu.
‘His arm must be/appears to be numb.’

Kakzir can also be used metaphorically to mean “emotionally numb,” as if your emotions were turned off just like physical numbness.

Teri kxitx peyä stawm a krr, oe kakzir slolu nìwotx.
‘When I heard about her death, I became completely numb.’

tìkakzir (n., tì.kak.ZIR) ‘numbness’

And finally,

ken (vin.) ‘behave assertively and with confidence’

As you know, this verb has a homonym, namely the adposition ken meaning ‘despite, in spite of.’ Since the two kens are totally different parts of speech, there shouldn’t be confusion as to which one is meant.

Eyktan asìltsan, ken ayskxe mì te’lan, zene kiven frakrr.
‘A good leader, despite the stones in his heart, must always behave confidently.’

And note the following idiom:

Kllkxem kiven!
‘Stand up straight!’

The implication here is: stand up straight and proud, projecting a feeling of confidence.

That’s it for now. Hayalovay, ma eylan!

ta P.

P.S.: Irayo nìtxan to all those who contributed suggestions for revising the resource list. I haven’t gotten to that yet, but I will, and I appreciate all of your submissions.

Kxì, ma frapo.

Vospxìvolaw lefpom! Happy September! And for those of you in the USA, Ftxozä Tìkangkemä prrte’ livu ayngar! Enjoy your Labor Day!

If you look over on the side of this page, you’ll see Na’vi on the ‘Net, a list of resources for Na’vi learners. As I don’t have to tell you, it hasn’t been updated in a very long time; in its current state, it’s incomplete and out of date. I’d like to remedy that situation.

So, for those of you who are interested, I’d like to solicit your help in making the revisions. Please let me know which of the listed resources are out of date or defunct and should be removed, but also, more importantly, which ones you’d like to see added. These can be resources created by other people that you’ve found valuable, or ones you’ve created yourself.

Rather than replying in the comments with your suggestions, please contact me privately via email. I think you all know my address: my-last-name AT marshall DOT usc DOT edu. And please use the subject line “Na’vi Resources” so I’ll be able to flag these emails immediately. Please also include a VERY BRIEF DESCRIPTION, no more than one sentence, of the online resource along with its URL, which I’ll try to include in the listing. (If you’d like to elaborate on your suggestions in your email to me, explaining why you feel they’re useful, that will of course be fine.) I’ll take all your suggestions into consideration as I revise the list. (As has been the case up to now, names of creators won’t be included in the Na’viteri listing, although they may well be available on the resource site itself.)

Please get your suggestions to me no later than Sunday, 14 September.

Irayo, ma eylan!

ta P.

Kxì, ma frapo! Hi all!

To start off the new month, here’s a bit of new vocabulary along with some conversational expressions I hope you’ll find useful. As usual, some but not all the new words are taken or adapted from recent LEP submissions.

sweri (vtr., SWE.ri, inf. 1,2) ‘praise’

Tarontswot peyä frapol sweri.
‘Everyone praises his hunting ability.’

Ngeyä nantangtsyìpit sweri krra lek aysäkxìmit!
‘Praise your dog when he follows (your) commands!’

Lesnonrra tute a swäperi frakrr slu eyktan afpxamo.
‘An arrogant individual who always praises himself makes a terrible leader.’

säkxìm (n., sä.KXÌM) ‘a command or order’

tìsweri (n., tì.SWE.ri) ‘praise (general sense)’

säsweri (n., sä.SWE.ri) ‘praise (instance of)’

tìswäper (n., tì.swä.PER) ‘self-praise’

As you might guess, tìswäper has a negative sense and overlaps with the idea of boasting.

lehangham (adj., le.HANG.ham) ‘laughable, ridiculous, absurd’

Keep in mind that the meanings of le- adjectives are not always predictable. Here, lehangham doesn’t mean ‘pertaining to laughter’ or ‘funny’ (that would be ’ipu) but rather something that makes you laugh derisively. It can be used to describe people as well as ideas and events.

fenge (vtr., FE.nge, inf. 1,2) ‘mock, ridicule’

Oeti fenge rä’ä!
’Don’t mock me!’

Folenge frapol peyä tìhawlit lehangham.
‘Everyone ridiculed his ridiculous plan.’

tìfenge (n., tì.FE.nge) ‘ridicule’

nìleyn (adv., nì.LEYN) ‘repeatedly’

nal (vin.) ‘suffer’

Nal can refer both to experiencing physical pain and to emotional suffering .

Krra tse’a oel tìfkeytokit txanlokxeyä oey, nal nìtxan mì te’lan.
‘When I see the condition of my country, I suffer greatly in my heart.’

nalsteng (vin., NAL.steng, inf. 1,1) ‘feel empathy or compassion’

This verb is a compound of nal + ’awsiteng ‘together.’ The idea is that when you feel empathy or compassion for someone, you are suffering together with them. (In fact, the English word “compassion” was derived in much the same way: the com– part goes back to the Latin word cum, meaning ‘with,’ while the passion part relates to suffering, as in the Christian notion of Christ’s passion on the cross.)

Pori oe nalsteng.
‘I feel compassion for him.’

Alternatively, we can use hu:

Pohu oe nalsteng.
‘I feel compassion for him.’

tìnalsteng (n., tì.NAL.steng) ‘compassion, empathy’

lenalsteng (adj. ofp, le.NAL.steng) ‘compassionate’

tìnalstenga’ (adj. nfp, tì.NAL.ste.nga’) ‘compassionate’

Finally, take a look at these idiomatic ways of saying that something or someone looks/sounds/tastes/smells good or bad. They’re more common in colloquial conversation than the related structures using fkan. The outline of the structure is:

SUBJECT + za’u + ADVERB + ne + [SENSE ORGAN]

Here are some examples that should clarify this usage:

Nga za’u nìltsan ne nari.
‘You look good.’
(Literally: You come well to the eye.)

Po za’u nìfe’ ne nari.
‘She looks bad.’

Fìsyuve za’u nìfe’ ne ftxì.
‘This food tastes bad.’
(Literally: ‘This food comes badly to the tongue.’)

Nga za’u nìfpxamo ne mikyun. Mokriri kempe lolen?
‘You sound terrible. What happened to your voice?’
(Literally: ‘You come terribly to the ear.’)

And a heads-up: As many of you know, the annual online Na’vigation conference takes place this weekend, Friday Aug. 1 through Sunday Aug. 3. It’s open to absolutely everyone who’s interested in the Na’vi language. You can watch the proceedings here. And the schedule of events is here.

Hayalovay, ma eylan!

Ma eylan,

Fìzìsìtìri, mawl a’awve solew, mawl amuve polähem.

To quote the beautiful song written by Sandy Denny and memorably sung by Judy Collins, who knows where the time goes?

In any event, July has arrived, and many of us are hoping the second half of 2025 will be better than the first. On that hopeful note, then, here are some new words to mark the occasion. The majority of these came directly from my backlog of submissions from the LEP Committee or were inspired by their suggestions.

ketengsyon (n., KE.teng.syon) ‘variety, diversity’

This is clearly a compound of keteng ‘different’ + syon ‘characteristic.’

leketengsyon (adj., le.KE.teng.syon) ‘diverse, various’

Plltxe Sawtute fa aylì’fya leketengsyon.
‘Humans speak diverse (OR: a variety of) languages.’

tengwotx (adj., TENG.wotx)  ‘uniform, non-diverse’

From teng ‘same’ + nìwotx ‘completely, all’ where the nì– prefix has dropped.

tìtengwotx (n., tì.TENG.wotx) ‘uniformity’

Nawnumtsengä aynumeyuri ley ayngaru tìtengwotx, ayoeru ketengsyon.
‘Regarding university students, you value uniformity, we value diversity.’

nawnumtseng (n., naw.NUM.tseng) ’university’

From nawm ’great, noble’ + numtseng ‘school.’ Notice that the -nm- combination has evolved simply to n.

kxapay (n., KXA.pay) ‘spit, saliva’

This is literally ‘mouth water.’

kxapay si (vin.) ‘salivate’

Note that this does not mean to spit deliberately. That would be:

kxapaytsre’ (vin., KXA.pay.tsre’, inf. 3,3) ‘spit’

This is from kxapay + tsre’i ‘throw.’

Fwa kxapaytsre’ lu txavä’.
‘Spitting is disgusting.’

zäfizal (n., ZÄ.fi.zal) ‘fired clay, ceramic material’

From zäfi ‘processed, cooked’ + zal ‘clay.’

Zal by itself can refer either to clay in its natural state or to baked clay; zäfizal is exclusively the latter.

Fìtsngalit fkol txula ta zäfizal.
‘This is a ceramic cup. OR This cup is made of fired clay/ceramic material.’

ketstun (adj., ke.TSTUN) ‘unkind, emotionally cold’

Here tstunwi ‘kind’ has contracted simply to tstun.

A proverbial expression:

Tute aketstun slivu ’eylan ke tsun.
’An unkind person cannot be a friend.’

tìktstun (n., tìk.TSTUN) ‘unkindness, emotional coldness’

spxintu (n. SPXIN.tu) ‘sick or ill person’

Längu zama spxintu mì sray oeyä.
‘I’m sorry to say there are sixty-four sick people in my village.’

räzekx (n., RÄ.zekx) ‘curse’

tìng räzekx (vin.) ‘to curse’

Räzekx is the opposite of syawn ‘blessing.’ Tìng räzekx is a strong way of wishing someone ill.

Oe ngaru tìng räzekx, ma kalweyaveng!
‘I curse you, (OR: Damn you!), you SOB.’

rayl (adj.) ‘feeling pity and sorrow for someone’s misfortune’

Pori sa’nok tìmerkup; ’efu oe rayl.
’His mother just died; I feel bad for him.’

To end on a positive note:

lornusrr (adj., LOR.nu.srr) ‘radiant’

From lor ‘beautiful’ + nrr ‘glow,’ in the active participle form with <us>.

Eyweveng lu lornusrr.
‘Pandora is radiant.’

Hayalovay, ma eylan!

Kaltxì, ma frapo! Sìlpey oe, ayngaru livu fpom nìwotx.

Here are about twenty new words and expressions that I hope you’ll find useful. The majority came directly from, or were inspired by, the recent submissions I received from the Lexical Expansion Project. Irayo, ma smuk! Seysonìltsan!

In no particular order:

kxäl (adj.) ‘apathetic, feeling of apathy’

Fìtìngäzìkìri ’efu po kxäl; pori tsa’u ke tsranten kaw’it.
‘She’s apathetic about this problem; it doesn’t matter to her at all.’

tìkxäl (n., tì.KXÄL) ‘apathy’

Tìkxäl lu peu? Lu tskxepay a mì te’lan sì kxitx a mì eltu.
‘What is apathy? It’s ice in the heart and a death in the brain.’
(This evocative example is from the LEP.)

nìkxäl (adv., nì.KXÄL) ‘apathetically’

lìlì (n., LÌ.lì) ‘breast’

hilu (n., HI.lu) ‘nipple’

wantseng (n., WAN.tseng) ‘hiding place (temporary)’

A wantseng is a temporary hiding place, where for example a prey animal might hide from a predator. It’s not used for a permanent refuge.

mu’nitkan (adj., MU’.nit.kan) ‘effective’

This word is derived from mu’ni ‘achieve’ and tìkan ‘goal, target.’ Something that’s effective reaches its target or achieves its goal.

Tsayerikìl mu’nitkana wantsengit rolun; ke tsun fko pot tsive’a kaw’it.
‘That hexapede has found an effective hiding place. He can’t be seen at all.’

(NOTE: Whether you refer to an animal as a “he/she” or an “it” depends on how you feel about it. In this example, however, using pot rather than tsat has a practical function: it avoids an ambiguity. If it were tsat, you wouldn’t know if it was the hexapede or the hiding place that couldn’t be seen!)

kemu’nitkan (adj., ke.MU’.nit.kan) ‘ineffective’

tìmu’nitkan (n., tì,MU’.nit.kan) ‘effectiveness’

nìmu’nitkan (adv., nì.MU’.nit.kan) ‘effectively’

(NOTE: “Effectively” means two different things in English: (1) ‘in such a way as to reach a target,’ and (2) actually rather than officially or explicitly, as in “His campaign is effectively over”—that is, it’s over for all practical purposes, even if its demise hasn’t yet been announced. Nìmu’nitkan only has the first meaning, not the second.)

txeylan (n., TXEY.lan) ‘best friend’

This word evolved from txe’lan ‘heart’ + ’eylan ‘friend.’ In Na’vi, your best friend is your “heart friend.”

napxì (adv., na.PXÌ) ‘partially, in part’

This adverb originally had the regular nì– prefix—i.e, *nìhapxì—but due to the stress pattern, where the first two syllables were unstressed, it evolved to its present irregular form.

Fìtìkangkemvi hasey lu napxì nì’aw.
‘This project is only partially complete.’

tsup (n.) ‘chasm, ravine’

This yields the proverbial expression:

Rä’ä zup nemfa tsup.
‘Don’t fall into the chasm.’ (That is, don’t fall into the trap that someone has laid for you.)

wätum (n., WÄ.tum) ‘antidote’

As you can tell, this comes from wä ‘against’ + txum ‘poison.’ (Recall that wä is one of those adpositions that trigger lenition.)

Peyä aylì’uri atxumnga’ wätumìl pesenget?
‘Where is the antidote for his poisonous words?’

mewn (vin.) ‘sigh’

Nga merewn pelun, ma paskalin?
‘Why are you sighing, sweetie?’

sämewn (n., sä.MEWN) ‘sigh, an instance of sighing’

Zola’u ftu käpxì numtsengviyä sämewn awok.
‘From the back of the classroom came a loud sigh.’

tì’ewan (n., tì.’E.wan) ‘youth (time of life)’

tìkoak (n., tì.KO.ak) ‘old age’

A proverbial expression:

Nìwin ’ìp tì’ewan, nìwin pähem tìkoak.
‘Youth vanishes quickly, old age arrives quickly.’

kxal (adj.) ‘strict, demanding proper behavior’

This word refers to someone who’s a strict disciplinarian or a “stickler for the rules.”

Another proverbial expression:

Ftumfa kxala karyuä kxa za’u sänume a ley.
‘From the mouth of a strict teacher comes valuable instruction.’

tìkxal (n., tì.KXAL) ‘strictness, discipline’

And yet another proverb:

Tìkxalìl tìkxälit zeyko.
‘Discipline cures apathy.’

Finally, some new uses of a couple of familiar words:

As you know, the terms for ‘ascend’ and ‘descend’ are fäkä and kllkä respectively. When accompanied by the adpositions sìn ‘onto’ and ftu ‘from,’ they’re also the terms for getting on or off a vehicle or conveyance. When used with an animal, they mean ‘mount’ or ‘dismount.’

fäkä sìn (v.) ‘get on, mount’

kllkä ftu (v.) ‘get off, dismount’

Po sìn pa’li fäkolä makto neto.
‘She got on her direhorse and rode away.’

And just a couple more things before I sign off:

First, I have some comments to respond to from previous posts. I’ll get to them as soon as I can.

And second, it’s possible you’ve come across something on the Internet that says I’ve created another constructed language for a major non-Avatar-related film coming out towards the end of the year. That is not true. It’s just one more example of someone misreading something and then repeating it erroneously, at which point the misinformation spreads virally. (Sämewn atsawl.)

Hayalovay!

Edit May 2nd: wätum peseng –> wätumìl pesenget

Ma eylan,

Zìskrrmipaw Lefpom ulte Zìskrrtsawn Lefpom! Happy Spring and, for those in the Southern Hemisphere, Happy Fall! (Also Happy Now Ruz, the Persian New Year!)

I’ve owed you a post for a long time, but for now just a quick one to let you know a couple of things:

First, as some of you are aware, this weekend is Conlang Adventure.

It should be interesting and fun. And registration is free. As you see, I’m one of the speakers. But I’ll be speaking to an audience that doesn’t know much about Na’vi. For members of the lĩ’fyaolo’, I’m afraid there won’t be anything new in my talk. So unless you really want to hear me say the same things you’ve heard me say many times before, please feel free to skip my presentation. 🙂

HOWEVER, several members of our community will be speaking about Na’vi as well! These folks are Tekre, Stefan Mir-Mackiewicz, and Tsyili. I’m really looking forward to what they present! Check the schedule for when on Saturday they’ll be speaking.

And just a few new items related to the things I’ve been working on:

lare (vin., LA.re, inf. 1, 2) ‘be watchful, alert’

Lare is more general than nari si ‘be careful.’ You’d use nari si, for example, to tell someone to walk carefully over rough terrain so as not to trip. Lare implies staying alert and watchful, keenly aware of your surroundings, particularly in dangerous circumstances.

Tsun na’rìng lehrrap livu, ma ’eveng. Zene livare frakrr.
‘The forest can be dangerous, child. You need to be alert at all times.’

Here are some words for politely addressing older people. Although the words koaktu, koaktan, and koakte (‘old person,’ ‘old man,’ and ‘old woman’ respectively) do not have any negative connotations, there are variants that are especially polite and culturally significant, especially for direct address:

leiokoaktu (n., le.i.o.KO.ak.tu) ‘respected elder’

leiokoaktan (n., le.i.o.KO.ak.tan) ‘respected male elder’

leiokoakte (n., le.i.o.KO.ak.te) ‘respected female elder’

These words are compounds containing the component leioae ‘respect’ in condensed form.

Note that in normal conversation, these six-syllable words are usually shortened to five syllables: leyokoaktu, etc.

Ngengeyä hafyonìri irayo, ma leiokoakte.
‘Thank you for your wisdom, respected female elder.’

And finally,

keve’otu (n., ke.VE’.o.tu) ‘troublemaker, one who habitually creates chaos and disorder’

From keve’o ‘chaos.’

Aysäleymfe’it peyä yune rä’ä. Lu po keve’otu nì’aw.
‘Don’t listen to his complaints. He’s just a troublemaker.’

Hayalovay!

ETA: I forgot to mention something. A number of you have pointed out that the word Mangkwan, the name of the Ash People which has now appeared in numerous places, is not standard Na’vi, since kw is not a permitted consonant cluster. That’s correct. I’ll have more to say about this as we get closer to the premiere of Avatar: Fire and Ash.

Kaltxì, ma frapo.

A very belated Mipa Zìsìt Lefpom. Nìrangal oe tsirvun pivlltxe san fìzìsit sngolä’i nìltsan sìk, slä ke tsängun. At least there’s room for things to get better as the year progresses.

Kezemplltxe, I have a lot of comments and submissions to respond to, but the situation in Los Angeles right now is difficult, and my mind is on other things. I’ll get to the needed responses as soon as I can.

In the meantime, let me share a recent email discussion with you that I think you’ll find interesting.

A member of the lì’fyaolo’ wrote:

A question came up about pum:

Could pum ever be used without a narrowing descriptor attached? (We seem to have no examples of this.)

e.g., Is the following translation valid?

‘You have too many arrows? Give me one!’
Lu ngaru swizaw nìhawng srak?  (?)Tìng oer pumit!

Or, is the sentence Tìng oer pumit ungrammatical because pum has no narrowing descriptor like an adjective or clause or genitive along with it?

My response:

Your analysis of pum, in that it requires a narrowing descriptor (I like that terminology!), is correct. That’s the only thing we’ve seen so far, and I’d like to keep it that way.

 So I would not consider Tìng oer pumit grammatical. But there’s a simple way out of this:

 When you’re saying “Give me one,” it really is one, not two or three or twenty. If it were, “Give me five,” for example, what would that be?

Lu ngaru swizaw nìhawng srak? Tìng oer pumit amrr!

 That’s fine, since pumit has the descriptor amrr.

 So ‘Give me one’ would be:

Tìng oer pumit a’aw!

That being said, some related things came to mind.

First, when you say “Give me one,” what are you really saying? It’s “Give me one OF THEM,” i.e., give me one of the things you have or that we’ve been talking about.

Some languages make “of them” in this context obligatory. Take French and Italian, for example. (I’ll switch from “arrow” to “book” for familiarity.) For “You have too many books. Give me five.”:

FRENCH: Tu as trop de livres. Donne-m’en cinq.

ITALIAN: Hai troppi libri. Dammene cinque.

Here, en in French and ne in Italian are obligatory particles, often classified as pronouns, that mean “of them.”

But other languages don’t require this.

SPANISH: Tienes demasiados libros. Dame cinco.

GERMAN: Du hast zu viele Bücher. Gib mir fünf.

You could specify “of them” in these languages by adding “de ellos” (Sp.) and “davon” (Ger.), but it’s not obligatory.

I’d like Na’vi to have the non-obligatory “of them” option. That would be sawta (from aysa’u + ta) for non-animates, fota (ayfo + ta) for people. So, for example:

 Lu ngaru ’eveng apukap, slä smon oer fota pum amrr nì’aw.
‘You have six children, but I only know five of them.’

Note that without fota, the sentence could conceivably be ambiguous. Perhaps you’re saying you’ve only known five kids in your entire experience, not necessarily the kids of the person you’re speaking to! Adding fota rules out that admittedly unlikely interpretation.

Another thing: “Give me one!” made me consider a different use of “one,” as in “You have a house and I have one too.”

Should we use pum here? *Lu ngaru kelku ulte lu oer pum kop?

That violates the “narrowing descriptor” rule, and this time you can’t save it with a’aw, because you’re not talking about one as opposed to more than one. So I would rule that ungrammatical. How to translate the sentence, then? Probably just:

Lu ngaru kelku, ulte oeru nìteng.

Another hapxìtu lì’fyaolo’ä responded:

The only complication is that the genitive is sometimes used in this partitive sense, adding questions for me for the {sawta} and {fota} uses.

Na’viyä luyu hapxì.
‘You are part of the Na’vi.’

Tsu’teyìl tolìng oer mawlit smarä.
Tsu’tey gave me a half of the prey.

So, you’ve used both genitives and {ta} for a partitive. How would you say, “send five of the warriors” (out of a larger group) vs. just “send five warriors?”

My response:

Good point about the genitive option. I actually considered it myself. The reason I went with the ta forms is because of the ambiguity of genitives like feyä:

Lu ayngaru pxaya tsamsiyu. Fpe’ ayoer __?__ pumit amrr.
‘You have many warriors. Send us five of them.’

The genitive form here would be feyä. But that looks like a possessive adjective, i.e. ‘their,’ with a resulting meaning something like, ‘Send us their five ones,’ which doesn’t make sense in this context. Fota doesn’t run into that problem.

But the examples you’ve pointed out with the genitive aren’t wrong. There are two related ways to form partitives, which are sometimes but not always interchangeable:

1a. Na’viyä luyu hapxì.
1b. Na’vita luyu hapxì.

2a. Tsu’teyìl tolìng oer mawlit smarä.
2b. Tsu’teyìl tolìng oer mawlit smarta.

The a and b forms are acceptable in both cases. I’ll have to consider whether there are rules for preferring one over the other; right now I can’t think of any. But sawta and fota should be used with pum.

Hayalovay.

Kaltxì, ma frapo.

Whether you’ve been celebrating Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Saturnalia, Festivus, or anything else, I hope this holiday season has been, and continues fo be, a healthy and happy one for you all.

Before anything else, I want to reassure you that I haven’t forgotten about the UDHR submissions! I was hoping to have some comments for you by this time, but other matters have intervened. I will, however, get to them in the next few days. Ayngeyä tìmweypeyri irayo!

In the meantime, here are some odds and ends I hope you’ll find useful:

More on indirect questions

There’s nothing here that’s really new. It’s more of a completion of things we already know.

Many of you have seen this explanation before—back in 2011, actually!—but I think it’s worth a review. An Indirect question is a question embedded in another sentence, which allows you talk about the question. For example, “Why did he leave?” is a direct question; “I know why he left” is indirect, where the speaker is commenting on the direct question. As this example shows, some languages—English, for instance—require different syntax for direct and indirect questions:

DIRECT
Why did he leave?
*Why he left?

INDIRECT
*I know why did he leave.
I know why he left.

As you know, Na’vi prefers directness, retaining the original quote for reported speech and the original question for embedded questions. So rather than the equivalent of “She said she would come,” Na’vi retains the speaker’s original statement: Poltxe po san oe zasya’u sìk, “She said (quote), ‘I will come’ (unquote).’

For embedded questions, Na’vi makes the underlying semantics clear. When we say, “I know why he left,” what are we really saying? It’s that we know the answer to the question, “Why did he leave?” Na’vi spells this out explicitly, using the noun for answer, tì’eyng, in a shortened form, teyng,as the base of various subordinate conjunctions: tì’eyng + a  teyngla, tì’eyngit + a –> teyngta, etc.

Our example sentence ‘I know why he left’ then becomes Omum oel teyngta lumpe po holum. In tortured English, this is essentially, “I know the why-did-he-leave answer.’

With that in mind, here are the teyng-forms we’ve already seen:

SUBJECTIVE: teynga

Teynga lumpe po holum ke lu law.
‘It’s not clear why he left.’

AGENTIVE: teyngla

Teyngla lumpe po holum oeti heykolangham.
‘Why he left made me laugh.’

PATIENTIVE: teyngta

Omum oel teyngta lumpe po holum.
‘I know why he left.’

That’s what we’ve seen up to now. But teyng exists in the other three cases as well:

DATIVE: teyngra (from tì’eyngur + a)

Rutxe law sivi teyngra lumpe po holum.
‘Please clarify why he left.’

GENITIVE: teyngä (from tì’eyngä + a)

Tìrunìl teyngä lumpe po holum oeti keftxo ’eykolefu.
‘The discovery of why he left saddened me.’

tìrun (n., tì.RUN) ‘discovery’

TOPICAL: teyngria (from tì’eyngri + a)

Teyngria lumpe po holum oel ke tslam ke’ut.
‘I understand nothing about why he left.’
(‘As for why he left, I understand nothing.’)

Note: The dative and topical forms were submitted to me by the LEP a little over a year ago. Irayo nìtxan, ma smuk!

One more thing: teyng can take adpositions too. For example:

Ayoe perängkxo teri teynga lumpe po holum.
‘We’re chatting about why he left.’

Moving on, here are a few things I’ve discussed with people privately via email that I’d like to share with everyone:

<ay> and <ìy> vs. <asy> and <ìsy>

A question arose about the “intentional future” infixes, the ones with s. How would we translate the well-known quote from Lord of the Rings, “You shall not pass!” Using ftem ‘pass by,’ would it be Ngal oeti ke ftìyem Or Ngal oeti ke ftìsyem? This was my response:

I would say that for “You shall not pass!” it’s better not to use <ìsy> and just use <ìy>. As you know, adding the s to the future infixes adds the idea of intent to a simple prediction about the future. That’s why the sy-forms are used exclusively in the first person: You know what your own intentions are, but you can’t make assertions about someone else’s, since you’re not in their head.

When you say Oe hasyum, you’re actually saying two things: (1) Something is going to happen, i.e., my departure; (2) it’s going to happen because it’s my intention—i.e., I am going to cause it to happen. (Of course, we have sentences like, “John intends to leave,” but that’s a little different. It’s making a statement about John’s current mindset as we understand it, but it’s not really making a prediction about the future. John may wind up not leaving at all, due to circumstances beyond his control.) For “You shall not pass,” we’re not saying, “Your intention is not to pass,” or that “I can compel you to intend not to pass.” It’s really a simple prediction about your behavior, even though it’s based on my own intentions.

Counterfactual ‘should have’

A question arose about how to express counterfactual ‘should have’ expressions in Na’vi as in, “You should have gone (but you didn’t).” Here’s what I wrote:

As you know, “should” in Na’vi is sweylu, which literally means, “it’s best (that).”

So “You should (counterfactually) have gone” is actually “If you had gone, it would have been better.”

From the rules we’ve seen, this is:

(1) Zun nga kilvä, zel sweylilvu. Turning it around:

(2) Zel sweylilvu zun nga kilvä.

But we also know that if the time of both clauses is the same, we can use the bare verb in the zel clause:

(3) Zun nga kilvä, zel sweylu. And turning that around,

(4) Zel sweylu zun nga kilvä. 

Finally, in sentences like (4), we can omit zel in casual conversation to get:

(5) Sweylu zun nga kilvä.

So all of (1) through (5) are acceptable for “You should have gone.”

One wrinkle:

The above assumes that the “better” part was in the past: You didn’t go last year, and LAST YEAR it would have better if you HAD gone. But we could also mean that the better part is NOW: If you had gone last year, the situation would be better NOW. (There were negative consequences of the person’s not going that are affecting the present situation.) This changes (1) and (2) to:

(1’) Zun nga kilvä, zel sweylivu.

(2’) Zel sweylivu zun nga kilvä.

Note that there are no parallels to (3) and (4), since the verb in the zel clause can only go into the root form if the time of both clauses is the same:

(3’) *Zun nga kilvä, zel sweylu.

(4’) *Zel sweylu zun nga kilvä.

However, we can omit zel as in (5) to get:

(5’) Sweylivu zun nga kilvä.

And finally, a new idiom:

na fkxen eo fkio  Literally, ‘like vegetable food before a tetrapteron.’

It’s used in the sense of ‘to go to waste.’ Tetrapterons (ayfkio) are predators and have no use for vegetable-based food. If you place vegetables before them, that food will go to waste.

Ngeyä fìtìkangkemvi atxantsan ke slayu na fkxen eo fkio.
‘This excellent work of yours will not go to waste.’

That’s it for now. Hayalovay!

I’m delighted to announce that the Sarentu Song from Avatar: Frontiers of Pandora has won Best Song in a Video Game (console & PC) at the 2024 Hollywood Music in Media Awards!

The complete list of winners is here, and you can hear the Sarentu Song and see the lyrics here.

The beautiful melody was composed by Pinar Toprak, and I provided the Na’vi lyrics. The recording and production were under the direction of Patrick Görtjes of Massive Entertainment in Sweden, a division of Ubisoft.

It was a real pleasure to be part of the team that developed this beautiful, moving song. And, of course, I’m proud that something involving Lì’fya leNa’vi has won this recognition.

On another note, irayo nìtxan to all of you who’ve already contributed translations for our UDHR project! I’m so glad you’ve taken the plunge and found the effort worthwhile. I won’t comment on the submissions until after the closing date, December 15^th, but please know I appreciate all of them—and I welcome more! (Related to the UDHR, I’m about to add a couple more resource links to the previous post that I think you’ll find interesting.)

Hayalovay!

Kaltxì, ma frapo, ulte Vospxìvosìng lefpom! Happy December! I hope that those of you who celebrated Thanksgiving had a great day with family and friends, and that you’re all doing well as we zoom into the holiday season.

I’d like to propose a little project that I think will be fun and productive to work on, and that also has relevance to the current world situation.

What is the most translated piece of writing that exists? If you answered “the Bible,” you’re right in that it’s the most translated book (or, if you prefer, collection of books). But if you’re talking about a document, it’s the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, the UDHR, which was adopted by members of the United Nations in 1948. To date, it’s been translated into 569 languages.

I think it’s time for a Na’vi translation!

Translating the entire document, with its lengthy preamble and thirty articles, is a major undertaking. (I should mention that a complete translation into Klingon is now available! It was submitted to and accepted by the United Nations in February of this year.) What we can do, however, is get started with the best-known part of the UDHD, Article 1:

Article 1

All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights. They are endowed with reason and conscience and should act towards one another in a spirit of brotherhood.

So I’d like to invite any and all members of the lì’fyaolo’ who are interested to submit a translation!

Let’s do this: The deadline for submission will be two weeks from now, Sunday, December 15. You can submit your response in two ways: (1) as a comment to this post, which of course will include your Na’vi name, or, if for any reason you’d prefer not to have your name attached, (2) in an email to me ([email protected]) with the subject line “UDHR Na’vi,” which I will then transfer anonymously to a comment along with the others. Either way is fine. Feel free to include whatever explanation and discussion you think would be helpful, and any remaining questions you have. And please don’t feel your version has to be perfect! All efforts, at any level, will be appreciated! Once all the entries are in, I’ll review them and try to put together an “official” Na’vi translation using the best parts of the submissions as I see them.

By the way, don’t think the English version is the original one, with all the others being secondary. The original version was actually the French one, which is considered authoritative if disputes arise about meaning. But the translations are not all parallel. Many, if not most, reflect something about the culture and environment in which the particular language is spoken. As one author has written (see the link below), “Translating this document isn’t self-evident . . . . Every language is a vehicle of different ideas, cultures and philosophical traditions; some would even go so far as to say that languages influence how we see the world.” (Sound familiar? 🙂  )

This means that our Na’vi translation is likely to reflect aspects of the Na’vi themselves: their way of thinking, their environment, perhaps their proverbs, similes, and metaphors, etc. You can use all of the vocabulary we have so far, but given the abstract concepts in Article 1, you’ll probably have to invent some new vocabulary as well. I’ll be interested to see what you come up with! But at the same time, don’t feel that if the English (or French, or German, . . . ) translation has a particular lexical item, you necessarily have to have a parallel item in your Na’vi version! There may be other ways to get the meaning across. (See the example below.)

For any sulfätu lelì’fya who would like to go further than Article 1, I’d suggest Article 19:

Article 19

Everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression; this right includes freedom to hold opinions without interference and to seek, receive and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers.

Or you could choose whatever part(s) of the UDHR appeal to you the most. But these additions are not necessary. For the time being, we’re only aiming to produce an official version of Article 1.

Here are some resources you’ll find useful:

First, the official web site of the UDHR.

Next, the Wikipedia article.

Here is the complete UDHR in English.

This article on UDHR translation issues is one I especially recommend.

Finally, this Maori version of Article 1 illustrates how a translation can get the basic ideas across without slavishly following the vocabulary and structure of any other version.

Fìtìkangkemvi ahì’i ’o’ livu nì’aw! I’m looking forward to seeing your creativity!

Update December 2^nd:

Here are two more resource links that I think you’ll find interesting:

First, this is an excellent 12-minute podcast on the UDHR that provides a more in-depth look at its history and context. It’s in the “Documents That Changed the World” series, written, produced, and narrated by Joe Janes, a professor in the Information School of the University of Washington and a personal friend.

And this translation site provides a remarkable collection of UDHR translations in both written and audio form. Type the language you want into the search box and chances are you’ll get a written translation read by a native speaker.