OCCASVS wrote:Ti volevo chiedere se hai mai provato ad imparare qualche lingua locale italiana?
(Ho scritto questo messaggio in italiano, perche' mi pare di capire che preferisci evitare l'inglese quando possibile)
Moltes gràcies per el teu missatge, te'l contestaré en català perquè dius que el vares estudiar però si no entens qualque cosa, m'ho dius, d'acord?
Que si he mirat d'aprendre una llengua italiana? Bé me fa una gran pena informar-te que no, mai. No perquè no m'interessin, lluny d'això, de fet, molt sovint mir videos en altres llengües italianes, i escolt la música feta en piemontès, en sard etc. Lo que pasa és que vaig molt enfeinat i ja tenc les mans plenes amb el basc, el català, el gallec i d'aqui un poc, el aranès també. Llavors no m'hi he fixat com es deu. Clar, si visqués a Palermo, aprendria el sicilià amb moltes ganes. Me falta però una relació humana per llançar-me al aprenentatge d'aquesta o d'altres llengües. Així era el cas del basc, el vaig començar a aprendre per mor d'una amiga meva basca. Tant de bo tengués un amic italià que xerràs una llengua italiana...
Another beautiful song by Huntza which will serve as an occasion for me to talk about ladybirds.
Elurretan kantari dabiltza Marigorringo eta kilkerrak. Margotu dituzte Mendietako paretak.
Singers abound in the snows Ladybirds and crickets They have painted The walls of the mountains
Amets hegalariak, ta txori kantariak Luma gogorrak ta hauskorrak harriak. Bizipozak neguak orbelez janzten ditu Nahiz ta guri biluzik iruditu.
Winged dreams and singing birds Hard feathers and fragile stones Joie de vivre clads the winters with leaf litter Although to us, winter seems naked
hauskorrak harriak - literally, fragile (are) the stones
Elurretan kantari dabiltza Marigorringo eta kilkerrak Margotu dituzte Bihotzetako paretak.
Singers abound in the snows Ladybirds and crickets They have painted The walls of the hearts...
Lainoetan, lainoetan, lainoetan, hegoetan... Gailurrean, lumazko lainoen artean, gailurrean! Gailurrean, lumazko lainoen artean, gailurrean!
In the clouds, in the clouds, in the clouds, in the wings On the peak, among the feather clouds, on the peak! On the peak, among the feather clouds, on the peak!
Lainoetan - only in the Gipuzkoan dialect, lainoa means clouds. It normally means fog.
Here is a map of the word 'ladybird, ladybug' from the monumental dialectical survey Euskararen Herri Hizkeren Atlasa (EHHA). As you can see, there is a healthy amount of variation for this insect, but most have the common element of a female name + the colour red.
For example, in Nafarroa and in Behe-Nafarroa, there is kattalingorri, from the feminine name Kattalin + the colour red gorri. In most of Gipuzkoa, andremari from the noun andere, meaning lady + mari, also a female name. So ladybug in these Gipuzkoan dialects is Lady Mary.
The word that Huntza uses in this song for ladybug, marigorringo, is found in much of Bizkaia and has also been accepted as a designation for the insect in the standard dialect. Marigorringo comes from mari 'Mary' + gorringo 'the yolk of an egg'. That is to say, it refers to the reddish colour of the yolk of an egg.
But you can have a feminine garment, such as a skirt or an apron. Observe gonagorri 'red skirt' and amonamaltalgorri 'red grandma's apron'. The red colour is in the scientific Latin name for the ladybug as well. Coccinus means 'scarlet, crimson very red', derived from the insect which the Romans referred to as coccum, and which they used to dye their fabric.
I have found by asking Moroccans that in Tashelhit, depending on the Tashelhit dialect, you call them mrim n igran, literally Miriam (=Mary) of the fields or '3cha n igran', that is to say, Aisha of the fields. So in the Berber languages, the association with a female holds. By the way, the Tashelhit word igr comes from Latin/African Romance ager, meaning field.
As for Moroccan Arabic, it depends on the dialect again, but I've found this to be relatively common: 7myer jdda, that is to say, 'the little donkey of the grandmother'. Another Moroccan told me that some people refer to ladybirds as taxi sghar (!), 'little taxis'. This is what a taxi looks like in Casablanca:
But wait, I'm not finished with ladybugs yet! Of course, I had to talk about Galician.
This is a fascinating series of linguistic videos that the Galician autonomous TV channel, TVG has been releasing. The point of this series is to collect and talk about dialectical diversity in Galician. TVG suggests a word on their Instagram account, and the audience sends in words that they themselves have heard or used. I find the concept and the execution to be simple but brilliant at the same time. In Galician as in Basque, there is a LOT of dialectical (if not idiolectical!) variation, but the standard ones are maruxiña (a diminutive of Maria) and xoaniña (c.f. Portuguese joaninha).
The presenter sings several popular songs or ditties or rhymes that feature the ladybird with other names. It's a chicken-egg problem, whether it was the rhyme that gave the name to the ladybird, or whether they have merely popularised its usage. For example, reirrei is a popular word for the ladybird in the south of Galicia, meaning literally Kingking, which is associated with this rhyme:
Rei, rei... cantos anos durarei? King King, how long shall I live?
The use of insects as the subject of divination seems to have been quite widespread in earlier times, because there's another name that the presenter mentions, (a)diviñon, meaning 'diviner'. It is associated with this rhyme:
adiviñon, adiviñon, mañá fai sol ou non? Diviner, diviner, tomorrow, will it be sunny or not?
Interestingly enough, asking the ladybird for predictions on the future is not only true of Galician but of Basque as well. There is a multitude of traditional rhymes in Basque as well.
Amona mantangorri zeruan zer berri?
Ladybird, In heaven, what's the news?
Marigorringo, marigorringo, biher edo etzi eurie eingo. (in standard Basque, bihar edo etzi, euria egingo)
Ladybird, ladybird Tomorrow or the day after tomorrow, will it rain?
And to finish off, here are some of the words collected for Catalan. There is a dizzying variety of forms:
marieta, poriol, pariol (o oriol), voliol, boliol (L'Alguer, Viladrau), buriol/curiol (Tortosí), papiol (Selva), papallol ([-ul)] (Conflent), juliol (L'Alguer i Vinaròs), gallineta (gallineta cega (sud del País Valencià), gallineta de borràs, gallineta del cel, gallineta de Nostre Senyor, gallineta de la Mare de Déu), formigol (valencià), cuqueta de Sant Miquel, bou de Sant Jordi, vaqueta de Sant Antoni, senyoreta (Capcir), catarineta (Conflent), catarina/catalina, margarideta (del bon Déu) (Rosselló), mariol·lo (Sóller), animeta (Vallespir), i volamaria (Vallespir), voliaina (Cerdanya), voliol
Marieta is widely used in Catalonia. In Valencia, they refer to the ladybird as a little chicken, or in the case of south Valencia, the blind little chicken.
I already posted a dialect map of Mallorca in a previous post, but I'll put it here again. Source is the Atles Lingüístic del Domini Català.
In Llucmajor they say poporiol, in Campos where I used to live they say marieta (like in Catalonia), in Inca they say poriol, in Son Servera, they say bover del bon Jesus (the cowherd of good Jesus). In Ciutat, that is to say Palma, they say marieta. By the way, the reason why we call Palma Ciutat and the rest of Mallorca as the part forànea is that back in the day, Palma literally was the only big city in all of Mallorca. And that has stuck.
There are also rhymes in Mallorca associated with the ladybug, but unlike in Galician and in Basque, they don't have to do with the weather.
I repeat here what my Mallorcan friend told me he says in his town, close to Llucmajor. First you hold the ladybird in your hand:
Poriolet pintat, a on tens s'enamorat? per aquí o per ciutat?
Little painted ladybird, where do you have your beloved? Around here or in Ciutat?
You then blow on the ladybird. If the ladybird flies away, your beloved is in Palma. If the ladybird stays, that means your beloved is 'around here', that is to say, somewhere in town.
So this rhyme has to do with love! I find it adorable.
Anari is a Basque singer songwriter. She's been compared to PJ Harvey but as a great fan of PJ Harvey, I don't think that's fair to either of them. This song is called Harriak, rocks.
Nik besoa eman zuk eskua hartu. Hala ere, beldurrik ez didazula diozu.
I gave my arm You took only my hand And yet you say that you're not afraid of me.
Zeru beltzetik elur zuria ari du, bakoitzak murrua bere erara egiten du. Harri pila bat dut zain ohean utzidazu gaur gordetzen zurean.
White snow is falling from a black sky. Each makes a wall in their own manner. A pile of rocks is waiting for me in bed. Let me hide in yours today.
Badira gau ilunean baino ikusten ez diren hainbat gauza. Beldurrak eta arrainak hil arte hazi eta hazi eta hazi.
There are many things that can only be seen In the dark night. Both fears and fishes Keep on growing and growing and growing Until they die.
Behin zubi bat oso osorik jan nuen lehenengo harritik azkenera ta hainbeste nahi nuenera ez joan.
One time, I ate whole an entire bridge. From the first to the last rock. In order to not go Where I wanted so much
Arrain bat oparituko dizut nola hazten den ulertzeko zenbat ur behar duen arnasteko, zenbat ur bitzitzeko, harri pila bat dugu metatua begien atzeko aldean: zubiak, murruak, bideak, etxeak, harriak finean, gorputzak, galderak, begiak, hitzak, giltzak eta oheak, Diogenesen sindrome emozional batek jota bezala, amets zaharrak ereiten ditugu gorputz berri eta emankorretan, nor garen ahaztu arte opaltzen besteen hankarteetan, besarka nazazu gogor iztarrekin hegan ez ateratzeko, zure barrura sartu nahi nuke nor garen ikusteko, beldur bat oparituko dizut nola hazten den ulertzeko, zenbat zu behar duen arnasteko, zenbat gu bizitzeko...
I'll give you a fish, to understand how it grows, how much water it needs to breath, how much water to live, we've piled up a bunch of rocks behind our eyes: bridges, walls, paths, houses, rocks, in the end, bodies, questions, eyes, words, keys and beds, as if we are afflicted by an emotional Diogenes syndrome, we plant old dreams in new and fertile bodies, giving ourselves away until we forget who we are in the loins of others, hug me hard with your legs so that I don't fly off, I want to enter into you to see who we are, I'll give you a fear to understand how it grows, how much yous it needs to breath, how much uses it needs to live.
guyome wrote:I had to look up entà, apparently it is specific to the Gascon dialect.
You made me interested so I looked it up as well. In Gascon and in the subdialect Aranese, entà can be reduced to tà. Entà/tà can be used to mean the equivalent of Catalan cap a (direction, towards) as well as per a (finality, beneficiary). Standard Occitan only has per to cover all of these meanings. Here are some examples of Aranese that I found online that I 'translated' to standard Occitan.
Aranese Vengui tà hèr un (ar)ram de flors
Standard Occitan Veni per far un ram de flors
Aranese Entath - entà + eth Ètz toti prèsti entath 3x3 de Bàsquet dera Hèsta de Vielha?
Standard Occitan Sètz totes prèstes pel/per lo 3x3...
guyome wrote:You probably already know about it but I thought I'd mention Mintzoak, "a platform for the Northern Basque Country’s oral memory", which offers hours of interviews with inhabitants of the northern provinces.
The author of the lyrics is Daniel Loddo, the quite incredible Occitan ethnomusicologist who plays the guitar in the group (and is incidentally blind). There's something very haunting about a hymn to one's country that has no official borders, no name, no state, no flag, no existence. A land of people without papers or homes, a land of 'eternal wanderers', if I may compare it to the old anti-Semitic trope. But whereas in the days of European nationalism, a people without a country were looked on suspiciously, as they could not be taken to be 'patriotic' to any of the emerging European nations, here it is taken in a defiantly positive sense.
Se sabiatz, Mon pais A ni nom ni Frontièra Dins lo vèrs s'espandis D'una fola epopèia
Se trapa pes camins Dins lo sang de las pièras Dins lo caud del rasim Dins l'amar de l'albièra
If you knew, my country Has no name or border It expands in the verse Of a mad epic poem.
It is found along the roads In the blood of the rocks In the warmth of the grape In the bitterness of the hoarfrost
Se sabiatz, Mon pais S'escond per las genèstas Dins la flore qu'espelis Dins lo cor de las bèstias Dins l'ombra que blanquis Dins l'autan que despelha Dins la doçor d'un nis O lo pols d'una fuèlha.
If you knew, my country Hides itself in the genèstes In the flower that blooms In the heart of wild animals In the shadow that bleaches In the south-eastern wind that strips naked In the softness of a nest In the pulse of a leaf
genèstas - Spartium junceum, Spanish Broom
Mon pais es aval Al mièg d'una carrièra Ont dançan tres enfants Per un sou de misiéra Es aval dins lo crit D'un freta-sauvatons Que rebala vencit Sens espèr de retourn
My country is down there In the middle of a street Where three children dance For a miserable pittance There it is, down there, in the cry Of a shoe-shiner Who wanders, defeated, Without hope of coming back
D'un freta-sauvatons - a compound that seems to come from fretar + sabaton (shoes). In other words, a shoe-shiner.
Mon pais es al fons D'una preson de trévas Que n'an per tot resson Que lo marcha o créba
Mon pais es pertot Ont son los privats d'ésser Sens papièrs ni aunor Sens ostal o sens tèrra
My country is in the back Of a prison of ghosts That have as their only echo "March or drop dead"
My country is everywhere Where beings are deprived of existence Without papers or honour Without home or without land.
Se sabiatz, Mon pais A ni nom ni Frontièra Dins lo vèrs s'espandis D'una fola epopèia
Se trapa pels chauchilhs Lo canin d'una talvera Lo fisson del perilh La joia bartasièrra
If you knew, my country Has no name or border It expands in the verse Of a mad epic poem.
It's found in the pools The harshness of a talvera The dart of danger The joy of being in the bush
talvera - this word has given the name of the group, a talvera is the edge of an uncultivated plot of land, a liminal wild place.
Mon pais es aqui Ont grana la colèra Sul punh que se brandis Dins lo fuoc, la lassièra Dins l'èrsa que nos pren Dins l'èrsa que nos geta Dins l'apèl de l'avenc Dins las mans de l'aubeta
My country is here Where rage produces sheafs In the fist stretched out In the fire, the faltering In the wave that takes us In the wave that throws us In the call of the abyss In the hands of the dawn
Se sabiatz mon pais S'amaga per las raras De l'ora que fugis E que sembla eternela Dins la colors passidas Dins las sentors salvatjas Dins la saba de vida Dins la paur de l'aigatge
If you knew, my country Hides in the corners From the hour that runs away And which seems eternal In the desaturated colours In the wild scents In the sap of life In the fear of the flashflood
Pertot ont l'amor nais Pertot ont l'amor puèlha Dins lo fum del pantais Lo breç d'una quimèra Dins los mots d'un enfant Dins l'algach d'una femna Ont lo rire pren vam Ont s'esquiçan las penas
Wherever love is born Wherever love makes root In the fog of a dream In the cradle of a chimera In the words of a baby In the glance of a woman Where laughter takes flight Where pains are torn apart
Se sabiatz, Mon pais A ni nom ni Frontièra Dins lo vèrs s'espandis D'una fola epopèia
S'escond al fons del riu Dins lo secret de l'èrba L'arma des recaliu Dins lo les d'una quèrba
If you knew, my country Has no name or border It expands in the verse Of a mad epic poem.
It hides at the bottom of the river In the secret of the grass The soul of a spark In the smoothness of a handle
Mon pais resplendis De mila cantalenas Que dança a l'infinit Un poble de serenas
Finta plan mon pais El n'a dieu ni mèstre Un canal que corris Sens tralhas ni cabèstre
My country shines With a thousand chants And dances to infinity A people of sirens!
Look well at my country It has no God nor master A horse at gallop Without reins nor halter
Mon pais es pertot Ont la sola batesta Es de gardar lo gost D'un lendeman de fèsta
Se sabiatz mon pais Es pertot que t'espera S'existis pas enloc En sus la tèrra entièra
My country is everywhere Where the sole woman fights It's to preserve the flavour Of the day after the party
If you knew, my country Is everywhere around waiting for you If it doesn't exist anywhere That's because it is in the whole world.
This is probably my favourite of Mikel Laboa's songs.
The words are from the Basque author Bernardo Atxaga. Within the poem, he cites two Zuberoan (from Ipar Euskal Herria) songs and retains the Zuberoan dialect used in them.
Long live our words.
Gure hitzak Esan berriz esan Ez daitezela ahaztu Ez daitezela gal, Elur gainean Txori anka arinek Utzitako arrasto sail Ederra bezalaxe
Our words Say them again and again So that they are not forgotten So that they are not lost Like the beautiful Trail of footprints Left by the light legs of birds On the snow
Txoritua norat hua Bi hegalez airian
Where are you going little bird With your wings in the air?
A Mallorcan friend of mine with an interesting trait that is characteristic of certain dialects in Mallorca, namely Lloseta, Alaró and Binissalem and in the east part of Menorca, which is the replacement of the schwa with an open vowel /ɛ/.
For example, the combination of the infinitive and pronoun la and les is not pronounced with a schwa, as in the rest of the dialects of the island dialects, but with a /ɛ/. So whereas someone in Palma would pronounce conèixer-la as [konəʃəɫ'ɫə], someone from Lloseta would say [konəʃəɫ'ɫɛ]. Whereas someone from Llucmajor would say prenc as [prənc], someone from Alaró would say [prɛnc].
Notice how my friend says 'vaig a veure-la' [vɛwɾə'ɫɛ].
I think for some Spaniards and foreigners, it is difficult for them to believe that others Spaniards speak other Spanish languages not to purposely annoy them or more vulgarly REDACTED with them (REDACTED), or to express a political statement of independence, but simply because they like it and because they feel more comfortable in Catalan, Basque, Galician etc.
"Why, if youse all speak Spanish anyway?" is something you hear quite often, and assumes that Spanish is the norm in Spain, something so normal that anything else is unusual and needs a reason to justify it.