Monday, January 17, 2011

Felē ebamo

Felē ebamo

Care to listen?

zum felē ebamo
kaxsini yahl frn erin dan
plî dabinia yneot sa,
dabin ywîc ân ma

yxsin frn jaeact(an) me
frn ba sandi, frn ba bameâ-ân-ara jaeact,
ba biab-ywîc-ân-nuvxsin jaeact
dabin ywîc ân ma

ygila mé ymaxsin frn ba mac, biab exlēlét skra ba nuvxsin op,
frn ba haec ta jaeactan,
frn ba kaxjaeiact me
ba talaoact uxreci skra ba wîc ân otiab matalēl
dabin yxwîc ân ma


I lie

Here I lie,
thinking about many things
there are things I don't know now:
there are things that I want to do

I think of my language(s)
of sandic, of the language that might yet be
of the language that I want to make
of the language I have forgotten
there are things I want to do

I remember and think about the joy that I had in creating them
about writing them
about how I have spoken them
and the sickness I feel because I want to change them
There are things I wanted to do.

I always feel guilty about wanting to make biggish changes to one of my languages. I don't know why this should be- I'm sure that they both aren't aware of it and don't mind at all. I get excited over a change that I'm interested in making, and lift my pencil- but then I think of things the way they are now, and start to feel a little sadness.

Here's a poem about the predicament I felt last night.

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