Bones of earth

A composer called Daniel J Hay contacted me today asking for help with a piece he’s working on entitled Tears For Earth. In the first movement, Bones of Earth, he wants to have a chorus of speakers in counterpoint to the tenor solo repeating the phrase “bones of earth” (or “the bones of the earth”) in various languages. Could you help with this?

The translations should ideally be in the Latin/Roman alphabet and have notes on how to pronounce them.

Here are a few that I came up with:

– Welsh: esgyrn y ddaear (esgeern uh they-yar)
– Irish: cnámha an domhain (craavuh un down)
– Mandarin: diqiu de gutou (dee chee-oh duh goo-toe)
– Japanese: chikyuu no hone (chee-queue no hoe-nay)

Other translations already received.

Web grazing

I came across the word brigbori in a Welsh book I’m reading at the moment (Shamus Mulligan a’r Parot, gan Harri Parri) and was a bit puzzled by it at first. I guessed from the context that it means something like ‘to browse’, and my Welsh dictionary confirmed this – it means to browse or to nibble. It appears in the sentence:

“Gan ei bod hi’n bnawn eithriadol o braf penderfynodd Ceinwen ac Eilir gymrd eu ‘te Sul’ yn yr ardd: Ceinwen yn brigbori drwy y goedwig o dudalennau a ddaeth gyda’r papur Sul a’i gŵr yn gwylio’r pysgod aur yn nofio’n esmwyth ar hyd wyneb y llyn llonydd ac ambell un ohonynt, oherwydd y gwres, yn sugno’r awyr â’i geg.

This means something like, “As it was an exceptionally fine afternoon, Ceinwen and Eilir decided to take ‘Sunday tea’ in the garden: Ceinwen browsing through the forest of pages that came with the Sunday paper, and her husband watching the goldfish swimming quietly across the surface of the quiet lake, with some of them, because of the heat, sucking in air with their mouths.”

Brigbori is a combination of two words – brig (top, summit, twig) and pori (to graze), so could be interpreted as meaning “to graze across the top”, which is browsing is all about.

Brig appears in such expressions as brig y nos (dusk – “top of the night”), glo brig (open-cast coal – “top coal”), brigdorri (to prune – “to cut the top”), brigiad (outcrop), brigladd (to lop the tops – “to kill the top), briglwyd (hoary-headed – “grey top”).

Pori appears in poriant (pasture – also porfa) and porio (to pasture – obsolete). Pori is also used to mean ‘to browse the web’. or literally ‘to graze the web’, and the word for web browser is porwr (grazier, browser) – and old word put to new use.

Pride

I’m often asked to translate words and phrases into various languages. Without any context this is particular challenging as a word in English might have more than one possible translations in another language.

The other day, for example, I was asked to translate “Scottish Pride” into Scots and Scottish Gaelic. The Scots version is easy, “Scots Pride”, and the Scottish part is easy in Scottish Gaelic, “na h-Alba”, but there are quite a few equivalents of pride, each of which has slightly or very different meanings. Dwelly gives the following translations of pride:

– ain-mèin – pride, haughtiness, arrogance, frowardness.
– ànart – pride, disdain, contempt.
– àrdan – pride, haughtiness; anger, wrath; height, eminence, hillock
– barracaid – pride; loud talk.
– boiteal – pride, haughtiness, arrogance.
– borraileachd – pride.
– bròd – pride, arrogance, haughtiness; chastisement;
– cuidealachd – pride.
– diomas – pride, arrogance; defiance.
– làstan – pride, sauciness, lordliness boasting for nothing.
– mórchuis – pride, pomp, magnificence, splendour; boasting, vainglory, ambition, state, pride, glory; exploit
– pròis – pride, haughtiness; flattery; humouring, cajoling; ceremony; neat, punctilious little female, prude; conceit; niceness
– pròisealachd – pride, haughtiness; punctiliousness, niceness, ceremoniousness; humouring nattering; punctilious prudery or neatness.
– spailp – pride, spirit, courage, boldness; conceit, self-conceit; foppish young man, beau; airs of importance; armour, belt; kiss; lie; attitude of the foot stretched out, as of a self-important fellow
– starn – pride, haughtiness, conceit.
– stàt – pride, haughtiness.
– stràic – pride, self-conceit; swell of anger or passion
– uabhar – pride, insolence, bluster, vainglory; pomp; heat; extreme pride
– baiseal – pride, arrogance, haughtiness.
– barracaideachd – pride, sauciness.
– cuidealas – pride, conceit, forwardness.
– leòime – pride, self-conceit; foppishness, prudery, coquetry.
– leòm – pride, conceit, gaudiness, foppishness, vainglory, prudery; drawling pronunciation; flattery
– rimhiadh – pride.
– uaibhreachas – pride, pomp, vainglory, haughtiness, arrogance; insolence; great haughtiness, extreme degree of pride or vainglory

Without any context, I would guess that “Mórchuis na h-Alba” might be a good translation of “Scottish Pride”.

In English pride can have a number of meanings as well. According to the OED it can mean:

– A high, esp. an excessively high, opinion of one’s own worth or importance which gives rise to a feeling or attitude of superiority over others; inordinate self-esteem.
– Personified, esp. as the first of the seven deadly sins.
– Arrogant, haughty, or overbearing behaviour, demeanour, or treatment of others, esp. as exhibiting an inordinately high opinion of oneself.
– A consciousness of what befits, is due to, or is worthy of oneself or one’s position; self-respect; self-esteem, esp. of a legitimate or healthy kind or degree.
– The feeling of satisfaction, pleasure, or elation derived from some action, ability, possession, etc., which one believes does one credit.
– Magnificence, splendour; pomp, ostentation, display
– A group of lions forming a social unit.
– The best, highest, or most flourishing state or condition; the prime; the flower.

Pride is derived from proud, from the Old French prod/pro/prot/proz (courageous, valiant, good, noble), from the post-classical Latin prode (profitable, advantageous, useful), from the classical Latin prōdesse (to be of value, be good).

Pandora’s banjo

Banjo

Last night a friend asked me about the origins of the word banjo. I wasn’t sure, so I did some investigating and discovered that banjo comes from the word bandore as pronounced by African slaves – ban’jōre, ban’jō.

A bandore (/bænˈdɔə(r)/ /ˈbændɔə(r)/) is “a musical instrument resembling a guitar or lute, with three, four, or six wire strings, used as a bass to the cittern.” and arrived in English from the Spanish ban’durria / ban’dola or the Portuguese bandurra, which come from the Latin pandūra, from the Greek πανδοῦρα [Source].

A Greek πανδοῦρα (pandoura) was a kind of lute with three strings, and the word was used for other lute-type instruments. It possibly developed from and got it’s name from a type of Sumerian plucked lute known as a pantur (lit. “small bow”). There is also theory that the Greek πανδοῦρα came from or was influenced by Ancient Egyptian instruments.

The πανδοῦρα became popular among the Romans, especially during the first centuries AD and among the common people – members of ‘polite’ society apparently considered it a vulgar instrument suitable only for taverns, frivolity, low merry-making and popular music. [source]

The name Pandora (Πανδώρα) isn’t related to πανδοῦρα, as far as I can discover, and comes from the Greek words πᾶν “all” and δῶρον (gift), and means “all-gifted” or “all-endowed” [source]. I couldn’t resist using it as a punning title though.

Learning a Language with Flashcards

Today we have a guest post by Andrew Cohen.

Having been a reader of the Omniglot blog for quite some time now, I have seen a lot of discussion about the usefulness of flashcards for help learning a language – particularly as a tool for practicing vocabulary and verb conjugation. Spaced-repetition systems (SRSs) like Anki seem to have gained traction as the preferred vocabulary study method among the language-learning blogosphere.

Yet despite their popularity, SRSs have so far mostly remained limited to vocabulary memorization. I find it surprising that no SRS manager has yet attempted to develop a way for people to actually learn a language from scratch using audio flashcards. It’s as if language theorists are afraid of innovating too much in the flashcard realm, lest they be accused of advocating diminished human interaction.

That’s why I created Brainscape. We’re a web & mobile “smart flashcards” platform that has developed a fully flashcard-based language learning methodology called Intelligent Cumulative Exposure (ICE). (See our 30-page white paper (PDF) about the cognitive science behind ICE.) We basically took the often-overlooked body of research suggesting that adult language learners benefit most from practicing output, and we found a way for the learner to systematically practice output of full sentences.

Intelligent Cumulative Exposure is based on the following tenets:

(1) Use translation to solicit the learner to generate each foreign-language sentence in the form of a flashcard;
(2) Play a natural-sounding native recording of the full sentence on the back of the flashcard
(3) Introduce only one new concept (k + 1) per sentence, beginning at the most basic sentence possible;
(4) Provide grammatical annotation in the learner’s native language where appropriate; and
(5) Repeat previously seen sentence-generation exercises in a spaced repetition pattern driven by the learner’s own confidence levels.

We’ve spent the past two years carefully sequencing a curriculum that applies these principles on both the web and iPhone – and we are finally releasing the product today! Brainscape Spanish starts from the most basic Spanish concepts for novices, toward much more complex words, grammar, and phrases for the advanced user. The app is currently available to use for free on our website (for a limited time) and for $40 on the iTunes App Store. It contains over 6,000 flashcards and will continue to improve based on user feedback over the coming months.

Please check out the app for yourself – and tell us what you think! And thanks again to Simon for letting me share this new innovation here on the Omniglot.

Lightbulb moments

Light bulb

Yesterday while we were singing La Bamba at the ukulele club the words started to make sense to me. I’d picked up some of them through repeated listening, but had never bothered to learn them before this week. Now I not only know the words, but also what they mean. Often with songs in languages other than English I might know the meaning of at least some of the words, but I don’t always grasp their exact meaning.

In the case of La Bamba, the lyrics that started to make sense to me last night were:

Para bailar la bamba (in order to dance the bamba)
Para bailar la bamba (in order to dance the bamba)
Se necesita una poca de gracia (you need a little bit of grace)
Una poca de gracia para mi para ti (a little bit of grace for me for you)
Y arriba y arriba – wasn’t sure about this bit – have now discovered that it means “faster, faster” or “higher, higher”
Ay arriba y arriba
Por ti sere, por ti sere, por ti sere (for you I will be, for you I will be)

Yo no soy marinero (I’m not a sailor)
Yo no soy marinero, soy capitan (I’m not a sailor, I’m a captain)
Soy capitan, soy capitan (I’m a captain, I’m a captain)

Source: http://www.lyricsmania.com/la_bamba_lyrics_los_lobos.html

This happens with songs in Welsh and Irish, and occasionally other languages as well, especially with songs I’ve heard many times – the meaning of a word, a line or even a whole verse suddenly becomes blindingly obvious and I wonder why I never realised what it meant before. It doesn’t help that it can be tricky to hear the words of songs clearly and that I don’t always listen to them very attentively, but sometimes when a word I’ve heard and understood in another context pops up in a song, it might help me understand some of the other parts of the song.

I think that the brain works away subconsciously trying to make sense of things, and when it has a solution, the conscience lights up like a light bulb. It’s moments like that that make language learning an exciting and rewarding adventure.