Category: Welsh (Cymraeg)

Plains, pianos and floors

By Simon

Flat piano on a wooden floor

The Welsh word llawr [ɬau̯r] means floor, deck, gallery, stage, platform, cellar, basement, ground, face, and a few other things. I discovered today that it has cognates in all the other Celtic languages:

– leur (Cornish) = floor, ground
– leur (Breton) = area, ground, floor, soil
– lár (Irish) = ground, floor, middle, centre
– làr (Scottish Gaelic) = floor, ground, storey
– laare (Manx) = storey, deck, floor, bottom, flat, set, sill, level

These words all come from the Proto-Celtic *ɸlārom (floor), which comes from the Proto-Indo-European *pleh₂rom or *ploh₂rom, from *pleh₂- ‎(to be flat).

THe PIE word *pleh₂- is the root of many other words, including:

– The English piano, plain, plan, floor and flake
– The Dutch vloer (floor, ground, surface)
– The German Flur (hall, hallway, corridor, stairwell)
– The Italian piano (flat, level, smooth, plane, softly, quietly)
– The Spanish llano (even, flat, level, plain) and plano (plain, level, flat)
– The Latvian: plats, plašs ‎(wide, broad)
– The Lithuanian: platus ‎(wide, broas)
– The Russian плоский (flat, plain, level)

Sources: Wiktionary, Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru, Maga Cornish Dictionary / Gerlyver Kernewek, Dictionnaires bilingues de Francis Favereau, teanglann.ie, Am Faclair Beag, On-Line Manx Dictionary, Reverso

Cold Wintry Wind

By Simon

凩 (kogarashi) cold wintry wind

I learnt an interesting Japanese word and kanji today – 凩 (こがらし / kogarashi), which means ‘cold wintry wind’ or ‘the cold wind that reminds us winter is coming’. It is also written 木枯し or 木枯, and is considered ‘untranslatable‘ by some.

The character 凩 is a 国字 (こくじ / kokuji), that is one that was made in Japan rather than being borrowed from Chinese. It combines 几 (ki – armrest, desk, table, screen), which can also mean ‘to envelope; to wrap around’, with 木 (ki / moku – tree, shrub, bush, wood).

Other kokuji include:

– 凧 (いかのぼり; たこ – ikanobori; tako) = kite
– 凪 (なぎ; な.ぐ / nagi; nagu) = lull; calm
– 働く (はたらく / hataraku) = work
– 峠 (とうげ / tōge) = mountain peak; mountain pass; climax; crest
– 杢 (モク / moku) = woodworker
– 杣 (そま / soma) = timber; lumber; woodcutter

In Welsh there is a word that is similar to 凩: rhewynt, meaning an ‘ice-cold wind’, from rhew (frost, ice) and gwynt (wind, breath). There are also a number of other interesting wind-related expressions:

– gwynt carthen = breeze created by shaking a blanket (said comtemptuously of a preacher’s artificial eloquence)
– gwynt coch Amwythig = the east wind (“the red / sorching wind of Shrewsbury”)
– gwynt y creigiau = north-west wind (“wind of the [Snowdonian] rocks”)
– gwynt ffroen yr ych = the east wind (“the wind the ox’s nostril”)
– gwynt pilyn = breeze created by shaking a sack in order to separate the chaff from the grain when wwinnowing (“wind of a garment”)
– gwynt traed y meirw = the east wind (“the wind of dead men’s feet” – refers to the custom of burying people with their feet to the east)

Sources: http://www.sljfaq.org/afaq/kokuji-list.html, Geiriadur yr Academi, Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru

Are there equivalents of 凩 (kogarashi) in other languages?

Or other interesting wind-related expressions?

Going spooning

By Simon

Welsh love spoons (llwyau caru)

There’s a tradition in Wales of men carving spoons out of wood and presenting them to the ladies they love. If a lady accepts a spoon, then she and the man are considered a couple – engagements and weddings were apparently not common in rural Wales until the 18th century [source]. The websites that discuss the love spoon (llwyau caru) tradition usually mention that it’s the origin of the English expression “to go spooning”, which is one I haven’t come across before.

A quick search on Google finds a number of books that include the phrase “to go spooning”, and from the context it appears to mean to go courting, but it’s not always clear. Are you familiar with this phrase at all?

Spooning has another meaning – “To lie down behind and against (another person) so that both bodies face the same direction with the knees drawn up slightly like nested spoons” [source], but I don’t think that’s what “to go spooning” is about.

Weathered pagodas and stretching times

By Simon

Picture of a pagoda

The word for weather in Russian is погода (pogoda) [pɐˈɡodə], which sounds more or less like pagoda in English.

The English word pagoda, which refers to an Asian religious building, especially a multistory Buddhist tower, comes from Portuguese pagode, which comes via Tamil from the Sanskrit भगवती ‎(Bhagavatī, name of a goddess) or भागवत ‎(Bhāgavata, “follower of Bhagavatī”).

In French the words for weather, temps, also means time and tense, and comes from the Latin tempus (time, period, age, tense, weather), from the Proto-Indo-European *tempos ‎(stretch), from the root *temp- ‎(to stetch, string), which is also the root of the English word tempest, via the Latin tempestas ‎(storm), and the English word tense.

Breton also has one word for time and weather – amzer, which comes from the Proto-Celtic *amsterā ‎(time, moment), which is also the root of the Irish aimsir (weather, time and tense), the Manx emshir (weather, time and tense) and the Scottish Gaelic aimsir (climate, weather, season, era, time, reign), the Welsh amser (time, age, tense), and the Cornish amser (tense).

Sources: www.study-languages-online.com, Wiktionary

I’ve started putting together a new section on Omniglot featuring weather-related words and phrases. So far I have pages in Czech, Russian and Welsh.

In the UK we talk about the weather quite a bit. It’s (usually) a neutral and uncontroversial topic, and while some people are genuinely fascinated by it, for most of us it’s just a way to start a conversation. Do people do this is other countries? Or do you use of topics as conversation starters?

Unfolding developments

By Simon

The word for to develop in Welsh is datblygu, which is a combination of dad (un-) and plygu (to fold), so Welsh developments “unfold”.

Datblygu also means “to evolve; reveal, disclose, display. to unfold, unwrap, unfurl, unroll, spread out.”

Plygu means “to (cause to) bend, deflect, bow, stoop, refract (light); fold, wrap. to subdue, subjugate, overcome; apply twist (meaning), distort, pervert; submit, yield, waver.”

Plygu comes from the Latin plicō (to fold, coil), from the Proto-Indo-European *pleḱ- ‎(to plait, to weave). The Latin word also means to arrive, which comes from sailors folding their ship’s sails when arriving somewhere.

Plygu is also found in:

– amblygu = to wrap around, surround, wrap together, lap, envelop, cover. (am = around).
– atblygu = to unfold, refold, fold back (at- = to(wards))
– arblygu = to apply, adapt (ar- = fore, opposite)
– darblygu = to deflect (dar- = intensifer)
– diblygu = to unfold explicate, unravel (di- = negative)
– goblygu = to bend, bow, nod, fold, wrap up, leap, cover, hide. to conquer; imply, involve, implicate (go- = sub-)
– gwrthblygu = to bend back, fold back; reflect; pervert (gwrth = against, contra-)
– ymblygu =to bend, bow, stoop (ym- = reflexive)

Source: Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru and Wiktionary

Les mots de la semaine

By Simon
français English Cymraeg
s’installer to settle in ymgartrefu; ymsefydlu
se calmer to settle down bod yn llonydd; bod yn dawel
se contenter de to settle for bodloni ar
régler to settle up talu’ch dyledion
s’établier sur to settle (land) sefydlu mewn; cyfandeddu
se déposer to settle (dust) dawelu; gorweddi
rudimentaire rough and ready (accommodation, method) ffwrdd-â-hi
le décor (stage/TV) set set
le plateau (film) set set
la pièce (de théâtre) play drama
tenace tenacious diollwng; anollyngol; diymollwng; cadarn

Clymau tafod

By Simon

Mi wnes i dyfeisio cwlwm tafod Cymraeg heddiw:

Llawr ar lawr y cawr enfawr mae llawer o lewod lliwiog yn llyfu llaw Gwawr nawr.

Ti’n gwybod unrhyw glymau tafod Cymraeg eraill?

This is a Welsh tongue twister I came up with today. It means “Down on the giant giant’s floor many colourful lions are licking Gwawr’s hand now.”

Do you know any other Welsh tongue twsiters?

Beds that lie

By Simon

Welsh sign outside a furniture store in Bangor

The other day I noticed the word gwlau on a sign outside a furniture shop. It’s a Welsh word I hadn’t seen or heard before, but from the context I worked out that it meant ‘beds’. The sign also included the words gwlau soffa (sofa beds). As I hadn’t come across this plural form of gwely [ˈɡwɛlɨ/ˈɡweːli] (bed) before, I wondered if it was a mistake.

According to Geiriadur yr Academi and Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru, the plural forms of gwely are gwelyau or gwlâu, so the words on the sign weren’t wrong, but were just missing a to bach (circumflex) on the a.

Gwely comes from the Proto-Celtic *uɸo-legyom from *legh (to lie down), from the Proto-Indo-European *upo (under, below) & *legʰ- ‎(to lie (down)), and is cognate with the Cornish guely and the Breton gwele. *legʰ- is the root of the Irish luigh, the Manx lhie, and the Scottish Gaelic laigh (to lie (down)); and also the Italian letto and French lit (bed), via the Latin lectus (bed); the English lair, the German Lager (store, camp), and the Swedish läger (camp), as well as other words [source].

Ingenious genius

By Simon

The word ingenious sounds like the antonym (opposite) of genius as in- is often used as a negative suffix (invisible, indivisible, etc). However they are not.

Ingenious means:

– displaying genius or brilliance
– tending to invent
– characterized by genius
– cleverly done or contrived; witty; original; shrewd; adroit; keen; sagacious.

It comes from:

– the Middle French ingénieux (ingenious)

– from the Old French engenious (ingenious)

– from the Latin ingeniōsus ‎(endowed with good natural capacity, gifted with genius), from ingenium ‎(innate or natural quality, natural capacity, genius), from in ‎(in) and gignere ‎(to produce)

– from the Old Latin genere, from genus (birth, origin)

– from the Proto-Italic *genos (lineage, origin)

– from the Proto-Indo-European *ǵénh₁os ‎(race), from *ǵenh₁- ‎(to produce, beget).

Genius means:

– someone possessing extraordinary intelligence or skill; especially somebody who has demonstrated this by a creative or original work in science, music, art etc.
– extraordinary mental capacity
– inspiration, a mental leap, an extraordinary creative process
– the guardian spirit of a place or person (in Roman mythology)
– a way of thinking, optimizing one’s capacity for learning and understanding

It comes from:

– the Latin genius ‎(the guardian spirit of a person, spirit, inclination, wit, genius, literally “inborn nature”), from gignō ‎(to beget, produce)

– from the Old Latin genō

– from the Proto-Indo-European root *ǵenh₁- (see above)

So ingenious and genius come from the same root, as do many other words, but took different paths to arrive at their modern forms.

In Proto-Celtic the PIE root *ǵenh₁- became *gniyeti (to make, to do), which became gníid / ·gní (to do, to work) in Old Irish, which, with a suffix became dogní (to do, to make), which became déan in Modern Irish, jean in Manx and dèan in Scottish Gaelic. This is possibly also the root of the Welsh gwneud, the Cornish gul and the Breton (g)ober). All these words mean to do or to make.

Sources: Wiktionary

The Salmon’s Daughter

By Simon

Language quiz image

On Tuesday I saw a play in Bangor called Merch yr Eog / Merc’h an Eog (Daughter of the Salmon) in four different languages: Welsh, Breton, French and Guadeloupean Creole.

It was a co-production between Theatr Genedlaethol Cymru (Welsh National Theatre) and Teatr Piba from Brittany, and featured actors from Wales and Brittany. The lead role was played by Lleuwen Steffan, a Welsh singer-song writer who lives in Brittany and speaks Welsh, Breton, French, and English, fluently.

For me it was interesting to hear all the different languages, especially the Breton. I understood most of the Welsh and French, though I couldn’t always hear what they were saying clearly, and understood, or at least recognised, bits of the Breton.

There’s some discussion in the play about similarities between Welsh and Breton words, though I doubt very much if any of the Welsh speakers in the audience understood much of the Breton, unless they’d studied it. The languages have many similar words, but sound very different.

When one of the actors started speaking in Guadeloupean Creole I thought it was French at first with an unfamiliar accent, but when I listened more closely I thought is was probably a French-based Creole.

Translation was provided via an app called Sibrwd (Whisper) and was available in English, Welsh, French and Breton. However it was mainly a summary of what the actors were saying rather than a word-for-word translation, and wasn’t in time with the speech. Sometimes it was behind, sometimes ahead, so it was like watching a badly dubbed film, and made it tricky to follow the story.

There’s a review of the Bangor performance in the Daily Post.