Lëé lëiféstus ba gamiai

It is  big day for me today.  A second birthday, of sorts.  Anyway, while steeling myself for the biggest part of it, this chant (mantra?) came to me spontaneously, and I clung to and repeated it.

It may become my shot mantra, haha.

I am in a great mood, for obvious reasons, so you can even have a recording of me chanting it for you. http://vocaroo.com/i/s0j1vd9FoxsM

This is a short text, as it was spontaneous.  I feel like the shape of this has been used before, but I am not entirely sure where my brain pulled it from.  If anyone has any idea, let me know- otherwise I will assume this is an original!


Order of texts:  Sandic -- Smooth English of Sandic

-----

Lëé lëiféstus ba gamiai
Lëé lëiféstus ba gamiai
Lëé lëiféstus ba gamiai
Iab olëétiadra!

---

O Hephaestus, who exists in balance
O Hephaestus, who exists in balance
O Hephaestus who exists in balance
Help me!

soruyo wî kapuyo

So, a friend introduced me to this song some time ago, and I made the mistake of listening to it again the other day... can you guess what happened?

That's right- I hummed it on and off for about Two days before I decided I was finished!  It was to the point that I was translating it on the fly during my ride home, to no effect.

  Bring in a proper translation into Sandic, and...  Sweet relief!

Behold, probably the first spanish-language song I have ever translated into Sandic.  Original here:  http://youtu.be/TaN1FEiChcw

'La sonora dinamita --sorullo y capullo'

no recording this time, sorry.  Voice, eh.

Order of texts: sandic -- smooth english of sandic

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Pa mit me srîtnia
Baxoka wwak makunnia
Historan op éoi baxahl paneco!
Felë ymî aunia
Wî kahami talëlab ân lëian gre kala felë
Ytemî ba raactab.

Ba makun umecin
Oxahl gezon oahl jekra
Jégú geté histor
Op baxahl éoi
Felë ysa, fian
Kémania kaxneot mî
Ân ba jeki histor ba
Baxahl gléni!

Ba kame otiab kaxkre
Ivlún oxahl érain
A ân kian daniab axneot mî
Kiab baxkésa ra
Kaxmeja ân jae atian frn ba sin ka
Ba kaxokai frn ba
Nalëu bal ân lëétesa!

Pé kapuyo opésa
Otiab ivin yse bera
Oahl énjan ta ivin
Wî otiab yse krian méâ me
A frn ba gléni otawwjae
Otawwjae hera

Pé kapuyo opémî
Bal frn me kaahl ba gléni?

Kian rial bal ân axmî
'Pé soruyo opésa
Ba gléni frn pé kaahl... ba trénui!'

Ba kame otiab siad kaxneot kre
Ba kun baxahl ujaui
Ba ame ber geté ae axjard
Pal ka iat baahl ba gléni!

--

Some time in my village
There was a wedding
Their hair was blonde like butter!
I tell the truth,
And to you forever
I will say what is real

From the marriage there were born
Nine children
Of these, eight had blonde hair
I know myself,
No one told me
That the ninth one'one's hair
Was very black

The man supported them
for many years
But that she said nothing
 to him was troubling
He decided to speak to her about his thoughts
And about what happened
You all will now know!

'Understand, kapuyo,
I love them all equally
They are all angels
I love them as much as i can
But we should talk about the black(haired) one,
We should talk calmly."

'Tell me, kapuyo,
Is the black(haired) one my child?'

She said back to him,
'You should know, soruyo,
That the black(haired) one is the only one that is yours!'

The man no longer supported them
The marriage was ended ('torn')
She left with her eight,
And the black(haired child) is still with him!

lëé lëiféstus -- o hephaestus

An original, written in english first then translated into Sandic, in reaction to a lot of things that have been going on in my life recently.  I am transitioning finally, and this is creating a lot of stress and joy all at once.  It also uncovers a lot of engrained self-hatred and hidden hopelessness, which I am powering through day by day.

I identify with Hephaestus.  Hera was horrified when she first saw him, and threw him down from heaven.  He crawled painstakingly back up, though, and proved himself worthwhile!

I hope someday to be able to say that I, too, have managed such a wonder.

Also, a fair note... my voice will be changing soonish, gradually.  I may eventually go back and work back over all of the ole recordings So that the sound is consistent.  Anyway, here you are.

Below is the original copy of the thing, where I wrote in Sandic.  Hence the sloppiness!

Listen along here: http://vocaroo.com/i/s0RF1hev5YLy

Order of texts: sandic -- smooth english of Sandic

---

Lëé lëiféstus
Ba kaxmiai alë
Ba kaklisalëi
Ba déleni
Frn lëé oxdéva ân lëian baneot ahl utorai mas
Wî otian ejj jjiave malëa op lëéxféd
Kaxmisiai petra ejj ba alimpisian
Ân amaian lëé ma pat,
Atian ba kaxnualëi

Lëé ba uxmai alë daeyúi
Dabin lëéma matemâinra
Jéb ba thîian olëéraug,
Bian ba lëagabin ba
Baxvél iaddanalëin
Ân petra
Ân lëané
Ta lëagan ba neodúsniatin
Ta bian mér mec
Oxahl utorain.

--
O hephaestus
You, poorly formed one
The bent and stooped one
The ugly one
They thought that you were not worthy of love and enjoyment
And despite their poor action, you went back
Climbing with great effort back to olympus
To show your mother up
Her who left and abandoned you

You work wonders
Look to this bird,
To the one that
Has let fall its prosthetic wings
In order to try with great effort
To fly
With the unusual wings
Which were given to it
At birth.

zum atemalëlnia -- she may die here

Was walking in my garden this morning, saw a little bee on one of the zinnias, obviously on her last legs.  It is fall, and many of them are dying- but I rarely see them in the process, and this touched me, so I wrote something about it.

This is originally in Sandic, so only two versions below.

You can listen here: http://vocaroo.com/i/s0DJ0zdrgiek

Order of texts: original sandic -- smooth english of Sandic

Zum atemalëlnia

O ba zaoa purpuri
Atiab nualë azeb
Bian axféd ân ade
Sagabnia ba, a
Jjiave ba jjelura ba lëyuc
Wî ân ba zaoanian ae
Oféd ta jutin érain
Bian, fovian
Wwak iat akep
O ba zaoa purpuri

Pa ba zaoan
Hanako axjjew gamia
Katadei, kakrei, kamai,
Kalëanéi
Pal ta kolún ae ivin
A mér ba fél kaxfédi
Ledi aahl
Katéwîcinia
Pa ba zaoan.

--

She may die here

On the purple flower
She hardly moves
To this one she'd come,
To take a bit of the nectar, perhaps, but
Despite the strong wind
And that so many others
Come to her little gathering of flowers
To, fro
She still sits there, supporting herself
On the purple flower

In the gathering of flowers,
She has lived the fullness of being a bee
Gathering, Carrying, making,
Flying
With all of her sisters
But in this cold which has come,
She is heavy,
Tired,
In the gathering of flowers.