Category: French (français)

Can Hens Sing?

By Simon

Four hens

What is the connection between singing and hens?

Hens don’t sing, but the words for to sing / speak in Celtic languages come from the same root as the English words hen and chant.

The root is the Proto-Indo-European *keh₂n- (to sing) [source].

This became *kan- (to sing) in Proto-Celtic, which became canaid (to sing) in Old Irish, and can (to chant, sing, speak, talk) in modern Irish. In Scottish Gaelic it became can (to sing, rehearse, say, name or call), and in Manx it became caayn (to bray, whine; song).

In Proto-Brythonic it became *kėnɨd (to sing), which became canam (to sing) in Old Welsh, canu (to sing, intone, chant, state, say) in modern Welsh, kana (to sing) in Cornish, canaff (to sing) in Middle Breton and kanañ (to sing) in Breton [source].

In Proto-Germanic *keh₂n- became *hanô (rooster), *hanjō (hen) and *hōnaz (fowl). The English word hen developed from *hanjō, via the Old English hænn / henn (hen). In other Germanic languages these words became: Huhn (hen, chicken) and Henne (hen) in German; hen (hen) in Dutch [source]; and höna (hen) in Swedish [source].

*keh₂n- is also the root of the Latin canō (I sing), from which words for to sing in Romance language developed, such as chanter (to sing) in French and cantar (to sing) in Spanish [source], and the English word chant [source].

See also the Celtiadur

Frowning nosey nostrils!

By Simon

Frowny face

What is the connection between frown, nose and nostrils?

The English word frown comes from the Middle English frounen (to frown as an expression of disapproval, displeasure, shame, fear, or jealousy), from the Old French frognier (to frown or scowl), from Gaulish *frognā (nostril), from the Proto-Celtic *srognā, from the Proto-Indo-European *sregʰ- (snore) [source].

The Proto-Celtic word *srognā is the root of the following words in the modern Celtic languages:

  • Irish (Gaeilge): srón [sˠɾˠoːnˠ] = nose; sense of smell; prow, projection
  • Scottish Gaelic (Gàidhlig): sròn [sdrɔːn] = nose, snout, trunk; promontory; snout (of a glacier); toe (of a shoe)
  • Manx (Gaelg): stroin [strɛin] = nose, promontory, headland, ness, naze, nose-piece
  • Welsh (Cymraeg): ffroen = nostril; muzzle of a gun, mouth of a cannon, nozzle of a pair of bellows; hole, entrance, opening (of a pipe), spout
  • Cornish (Kernewek): frig [fri:g] = nostril
  • Breton (Brezhoneg): froen = nostril, fri = nose

I’m not sure if the Cornish word frig comes from the same root, but it seems likely.

The French word renfrogner (to scowl), the Galician word enfurruñar (to frown, to get angry), the Spanish word enfurruñarse (to get angry, get cross, to sulk, to cloud over) also come from the same root.

Sources: Wiktionary, Am Faclair Beag, Online Manx Dictionary, Teanglann.ie, Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru, Gerlyver Kernewek, Dictionnaire Favereau, Reverso

This is one of the connections I found recently while working on the Celtiadur, my collection of Celtic cognates.

Glass eyes

By Simon

Glasögon

Recently I learnt an interesting word in Swedish – glasögon, which means glasses or spectacles, and literally means “glass eyes”.

Glas means glass, and comes from the Proto-Germanic *glasą (glass), from the Proto-Indo-European *ǵʰel- (to shine, shimmer, glow) [source].

Ögon is the plural of öga (eye), and comes from the Old Swedish ø̄gha (eye), from Old Norse auga (eye), from Proto-Germanic *augô (eye), from Proto-Indo-European *h₃ekʷ- (eye; to see) [source].

The Swedish word glas reminds me of the Russian word for eye, глаз (glaz), which I remember by thinking of a glass eye. Глаз comes from the Old East Slavic глазъ (glazŭ – ball, eye), from the Proto-Slavic *glazъ (ball), from Proto-Indo-European *g(ʰ)el- (round, spherical, stone) [source].

The Russian word for glasses is очки (ochki), which comes from очи (ochi), the plural of око (oko), the old Russian word for eye, which comes from the same Proto-Indo-European root as öga and eye [source].

In Danish and Norwegian, the word for glasses is briller, which means ‘a person wearing glasses’ in Dutch, and to shine or sparkle in French [source]. The German word for glasses is simliar – Brille, and the Dutch is bril [source].

Briller, Brille and bril come from the Middle High German berillus (beryl), from the Latin beryllus (beryl), probably from the Ancient Greek βήρυλλος (bḗrullos – beryl), from Sanskrit वैडूर्य (vaidurya – a cat’s eye gem; a jewel), from Dravidian. Probably named after the city Velur (modern day Belur / ಬೇಲೂರು) in Karnataka in southern India. The first glasses, made in about 1300 in Italy, were made from beryl [source].

Beryl is a mineral which comes from three forms: morganite (orange), aquamarine (blue-green – pictured top right) and heliodor (green-yellow).

The French word for glass, lunettes, means “little moons” [source].

Are there interesting words for glasses, spectacles, specs, or eyes in other languages?

Bulging Budgets!

By Simon

What do the words bulge, budge and budget have in common?

The answer is, they all come from the same root.

Bulge comes from the Old Northern French boulge (leather bag), from the Late Latin bulga (leather sack), from the Gaulish *bulga / *bulgos, from the Proto-Celtic *bolgos (sack, bag, stomach) [source], from the Proto-Indo-European *bʰelǵʰ- (to swell) [source].

Budge, in the sense of “a kind of fur prepared from lambskin dressed with the wool on, formerly used as an edging and ornament, especially on scholastic habits”, comes from the Middle English bouge (to swell out, to bilge) from the Late Latin bulga (leather sack) [source].

Budget comes from the Middle English bogett / bouget / bowgette (leather pouch), from the Old French bougette (purse for carrying coins), the diminutive of bouge (leather bag, wallet), from the Late Latin bulga (leather sack) [source].

The Proto-Celtic word *bolgos is also the root of bolg, which means belly, stomach, abdomen, buldge or hold in Irish; belly, stomach, abdomen, corporation, bilge or bowl in Manx; and blister, bilge, bulb or womb in Scottish Gaelic [source].

In the Brythonic languages *bolgos became bol (belly, paunch, abdomen, stomach, bowels; tripe; appetite, desire, gluttony, liking) in Welsh [source], bolgh (breach, gap, opening) in Cornish [source], and bolc’h in Breton [source].

Budge, in the sense of to move, comes from a different root: from the Middle French bougier, from Old French bougier, from the Vulgar Latin *bullicāre (to bubble; seethe; move; stir), from the Latin bullīre (to boil; seethe; roil) [source].

Polyglot Conference – Day 1

By Simon

The Polyglot Conference officially started today. There were talks and workshops all day on all sorts of interesting topics. I went to talks on Slovenian, linguistic relavtivity, Romani, the Cathars, and audiolinguistics. They were all interesting, especially the linguistic ones.

There was plenty of time between the talks to talk to other participants, and I managed to make some recordings in quite a variety of languages for the next episode of my podcast. I hope to make more recordings tomorrow.

I had conversations in English, Welsh, French, Irish, German, Russian, Mandarin, Japanese, and tried to speak a few other languages.

They are preparing Ljubljana for the Ljubljana Marathon tomorrow, and quite a few streets are being lined with barriers. I hope I’ll be able to get to the conference venue tomorrow.

Polyglotting in Ljubljana

By Simon

After arriving in Ljubljana yesterday I found a bus into the city centre, then walked to the AirBnB I’m staying in, which is more or less in the centre of the old town. It doesn’t look like much from outside – the door is covered in graffiti, and the outside of the building is rather plain, but inside the flat I’m in is very nicely decorated.

Ljubljana

Last night I had dinner at a restaurant by the Ljubljanica, the river that flows through Ljubljana. I saw quite a few people I know from previous polyglot events going past, and met some of them afterwards in a tapas restaurant.

So far I’ve spoken a little Slovenian, quite a bit of German, French and Welsh, and odd bits of other languages.

We spent today talking about the best ways to learn languages. This was interesting and there was some useful advice that I might try.

I haven’t had a lot of time to explore the city yet. The centre is quite compact and mostly pedestranised, with lots of interesting and colourful buildings.

This evening there was a concert with songs in many languages, then I went for dinner with quite a few other polyglots.

Shlyap on a shapka

By Simon

шапка, шляпа, шляпка

A Memrise Russian lesson I’ve been working on this week includes two different words for hat: шапка (shapka), which is translated as ‘hat (to keep you warm)’ and шляпа (shlyapa), which is defined as ‘a hat (for style)’.

Шапка comes ultimately from the Old French chape (cape) [source].

Шляпа comes from the Old East Slavic шляпа (šljapa – hat, milksop, difficult situation), from Bavarian German Schlappe (defeat, flop, slap) [source].

When you search for шапка in Google Images, you mainly get pictures of knitted woollen hats, like the bobble hat in the image, plus a few fur hats.

When you do the same for шляпа you get mainly men’s hats, like the fedora in the image.

Another word for hat in Russian is шляпка (shlyapka), which seems to refer to a variety of quite elaborate women’s hats, like in the image. It is a diminutive of шляпа.

I like these words because they’re fun to say.

Are there other words for hat in Russian?

Tykki Duw

By Simon

Last week I learnt that a butterfly in Cornish is a tykki Duw [tɪkˑi’dyˑʊ / tɪkˑi’diˑʊ], or literally “God’s pretty thing”. A moth is a tykki Duw nos or “God’s pretty thing of the night”).

The word tykki comes from teg (pretty, attractive), and Duw comes from the Proto-Celtic *dēwos (god), from the Proto-Indo-European *deywós (god), from *dyew- (sky, heaven).

Butterfly

Names for butterflies are interesting in other languages as well:

  • Welsh: glöyn byw (glowing ember); iâr fach yr haf (little hen of the summer); pili-pala; plufyn bach yr haf (little feather of the summer), colomen fyw (lively pigeon); glöyn Duw (god’s ember/coal); eilir (spring).
  • Scottish Gaelic: féileagan; dealan-dé (god’s lightning); sglapaid; teine-dé (god’s fire); teillean-dé (god’s bee); tormachan-dé (god’s ptarmigan); dealman-dé; strainnsear (stranger); gogag
  • Manx: foillycan, follican
  • Irish: féileacán; guagóg; uallán
  • Breton: balafenn; barbellig; bobelan; aelig
  • Swedish: fjäril
  • Danish: sommerfugl (summer bird)
  • Spanish: mariposa
  • German: Schmetterling
  • French: papillon
  • Italian: farfalla
  • Russian: бабочка (babochka)

What about in other languages?

Sources: Gerlyver Kernewek, Wiktionary, Geiriadur Prifysgol Cymru, Geiriadur yr Academi, Am Faclair Beag On-line Manx Dictionary, Dictionnaire Favereau, bab.la

Hobnobbing

By Simon

Chocolate hobnobs

Do you hobnob? Have you ever hobnobbed? Would you hobnob?

To hobnob means “to spend time being friendly with someone who is important or famous”, according to the Cambridge Dictionary.

According to Meriam-Webster, to hobnob means “to drink sociably” (archaic), or “to associate familiarly”.

The words hob and nob first appeared together in print Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night and meant “hit or miss”, and probably come from habnab (in one way or another). The phrase “to drink hobnob” (to drink alternately to each other) became popular, and as drinking was a shared activity, hobnob came to refer to a friendly social interaction.

Wikitionary defines to verb to hobnob as follows:

  1. To drink together
  2. To have or have not; to give or take (obsolete, rare)
  3. To toast one another by touching glasses (obsolete)

The noun hobnob is defined as:

  1. A toast made while touching glasses together (obsolete)
  2. A drinking together
  3. An informal chat

Apparently it comes from hob and nob, a toasting phrase possibly meaning “give and take”, from dialectal hab nab (“to have or have not”, in the sense of an invitation to have a drink), from Old English habban (to have, possess).

Hobbnobby hobnobbers hobnob snobs nibbling hobnobs. Say that quickly a few times. It might be more difficult if you’ve just eaten a hobnob (a kind of biscuit, pictured above) and are suffering from hobnob gob.

This word came up at the French conversation group last night, and we discovered that the French equvialent is frayer avec qn or fréquenter qn.

For example “On n’a rien perdu, à part la possibilité de frayer avec un tas de snobs malheureux.” (We haven’t lost a thing except the chance to hobnob with a bunch of unhappy snobs.) [source].

Frayer means to open up, clear or spawn, and frayer avec means to associate/mix with [source]. It is used in such expressions as:

  • se frayer un passage dans = to clear o.s. a path through; to force one’s way through
  • frayer une voie = to blaze a trail, to pave the way
  • se frayer un chemin = to pick one’s way; to shove in

Are there words meaning similar things in other languages?

Speech recognition & pronunciation

By Simon

Screen shot of Google Translate

Memrise language lessons sometimes test your pronunciation. You hear a phrase, then repeat it and record it. If your recording is close enough to the original, you move on to the next phrase. It’s actually a very useful exercise, and it’s interesting to compare you pronunication to that of native speakers.

It’s based on Google Translate’s voice function, and I thought I’d try that for other languages. Google Translate doesn’t record your voice, but you have to speak clearly for it to recognise the words. It doesn’t always recognise what I say to it in English, so getting it to recognise things I say in other languages is even more of a challenge.

I’ve tried it for all the languages I know that have the voice function. For most I can get it to recognise individual words and short phrases, though I find it easier for some languages than others. For French, Swedish, Russsian and German, for example, it’s usually fine. For Danish, however, it may recognise only a few words I say to it, even when I speak as clearly as I can. This suggests to me that my Danish pronunciation needs improving.

Have you used Google Translate or a simliar app in this way?

Did you find it useful?