Category: Irish (Gaeilge)

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.

Root bags

By Simon

rutabaga, swede, (Swedish) turnip, neep, moot

One of the words that came up in the French conversation group last night was rutabaga [ʁy.ta.ba.ɡa], a root vegetable that originated as a cross between the cabbage and the turnip, and that was possibly introduced from Sweden.

The word rutabaga was borrowed in 1799 from the Swedish word rotabagge, a dialect word from Västergötland in southern Sweden, from rot (root) and‎ bagge (bag, short, stumpy object) [source].

This vegetable has a variety of names in different places:

  • In botanical Latin it is brassica napobrassica
  • In North America it is rutabaga, which is also used in French and Portuguese
  • In the England, Australia, New Zealand it is swede (from “Swedish turnip”).
  • In parts of northern England and the midlands, and in parts of Canada, it is a turnip.
  • In north east England swedes are known colloquially as snadgers, snaggers or narkiesno
  • In Wales it is swede or turnip in English, and as maip (Swedaidd), rwden, erfin, swedsen or swejen in Welsh.
  • In Cornwall it is turnip in English, and routabaga in Cornish.
  • In Scotland it is turnip in English, tumshie or neep in Scots, and snèap-Shuaineach (Swedish turnip / neep) in Scottish Gaelic. In parts of Scotland, particularly in the south east, it is baigie
  • In the Isle of Man it is turnip or moot in English, and as napin Soolynagh (Swedish turnip) in Manx.
  • In Ireland it is turnip in English and svaeid in Irish.
  • In Swedish it is kålrot (“cabbage/kale root”)

What other names does this vegetable have?

Sources: Wikipedia, Am Faclair Beag, Gerlyver Kernewek, foclóir.ie, Online Manx Dictionary

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.

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

Celtiadur

By Simon

As you may or may not be aware, I have another blog called Multilingual Musings, which was where I practised using languages I’m learning, and posted interesting words that come up in the French conversation group I go to.

Recently I transfered all the content from there to this blog, and renamed that blog Celtiadur. I am now building an etymological dictionary of Celtic languages there.

It will contain information about the six modern Celtic languages: Irish, Scottish Gaelic, Manx, Welsh, Cornish and Breton, as well as their historical versions and ancestors.

The name Celtiadur is one I coined which combines the word celt and the Welsh suffix -adur, which appears in such words as geiriadur (dictionary), dyddiadur (diary), gwyddoniadur (encyclopedia) and ieithiadur (grammar, dictionary, vocabulary). It is also used in Breton.

There isn’t much there yet, but I will be transferring all the words in my Celtic Cognates section, and adding many more.

Famous outside words

By Simon

beseda (word in Slovenian)

In Slovenian beseda [bɛˈséːda] is the word for word or term.

Some expressions featuring beseda include:

– besedna igra = wordplay, pun, play on words
– brez besed = speechless (with shock etc.)
– častna beseda = word of honour
– dati častno besedo = to give one’s word
– držal te bom za besedo = I am going to take you at your word
– mož beseda = man of hono(u)r
– z besedo na dan! = spit it out! let the cat out (of the bag)!

This comes from the Proto-Slavic *besěda, which originally meant sitting outdoors (at night), then an outdoor gathering, or a conversation or speech at such a gathering.

*besěda comes from *bez (outside) and *sěděti (to sit).

In other Slavic languages the same root became:

– Belarusian: бяседа (bjasjeda) = banquet
– Russian: беседа (beséda) = conversation, talk, discussion
– Ukrainian: бесіда (besida) = talk, conversation, discussion
– Bulgarian: беседа (beséda) = talk, conversation
– Macedonian: беседа (beseda) = speech, oration, sermon
– Serbo-Croatian: бесједа / besjeda = speech, word (archaic)
– Czech: beseda = discussion
– Slovak: beseda = discussion
– Polish: biesiada = feast, banquet

Words for word in other Slavic languages include:

– Belarusian: слова (slova)
– Russian: слово (slovo)
– Ukrainian: слово (slovo)
– Bulgarian: дума (duma); слово (slovo)
– Macedonian: збор (zbor)
– Serbian: реч (reč)
– Croatian: rije
– Czech: slovo
– Slovak: slovo
– Polish: słowo

Slovo, and variations, comes from the Proto-Slavic *slovo (word), from the Proto-Indo-European *ḱléwos (fame), which is also the root of the Welsh clyw (hearing), the Irish clú (honour, praise, fame), the Latvian slava (rumor, reputation, fame), and the Greek κλέος (kléos – renown, fame, honour).

Sources: Wiktionary, PONS, dict.com

Angelic voices

By Simon

Yesterday morning I studied some more Swedish, Danish and Russian, did a bit of work, and went for a walk around the misty glen.

Glenn Cholm Cille

In the afternoon we saw an interesting film in Irish – Ag Lorg Annie (Searching for Annie), which was made for the BBC by Kevin Magee, who is studying Irish here this week. The film is about a painting of a local girl, Annie McGinley, that was painted in the 1920s by the American artist, Rockwell Kent, who spent quite a bit of time in this area. Kevin wanted to find out more about the painting and where the original is now. He found the painting in a private collection in New York, and other paintings by Rockwell Kent in St Petersburg.

In the evening the local chapel was packed for a concert by Anúna, an Irish choir who sing beautiful arrangements of songs in Irish, English, Latin, Spanish. They specialize in old songs, and the oldest they sang last night was written in the 9th century, and sounded angelic.

Anúna

There was another concert after that in Oideas Gael featuring Sean Mac Corraidh from Belfast, his daughter, and a singer from Tory island. They sang traditional Irish songs, and told some interesting stories.

In the Irish language class we talked about verbs and other things this morning, and in the sean-nós class this afternoon we learnt four songs, three of which were already familiar to me. This evening there is a talk about Féiniúlacht agus Teanga (Identity and Language) by a lecturer in psychology from Dublin.

The Misty Glen

By Simon

After quite a long journey, I arrived on Glenn Cholm Cille last night. I met some people I know on the way and spent much the journey chatting with them, so it didn’t seem so long. We talked in a mixture of Irish and English, with odd bits of German and Spanish. Last night I also spoke quite a bit of French. I found at first that Scottish Gaelic kept interfering with the other languages, especially Irish. Now I’m in Irish mode though.

As the bus went further north and west into Donegal the mist and rain came down, and by the time we arrived in Gleann Cholm Cille, the mountains had disappeared. Hence the title of this post.

Here are some photos of Gleann Cholm Cille from previous visits. The ones I took today of the misty geln are not online yet, but will appear soon.

Gleann Cholm Cille

I’m here for the Irish Language and Culture Summer School (Scoil Samhraidh Teanga agus Cultúir) at Oideas Gael, the Irish language and culture centre I’ve been to for a week or two every summer since 2005.

There will be Irish language classes in the mornings, a choice of cultural workshops in the afternoons, and various events in the evenings – concerts, talks, music sessions, and so on.

One new worksop this year is an introduction to Welsh. Quite a few of my friends here have said they’re interested.

There are also a couple of film crews here who will be interviewing people during the week.

I plan to interview a few people about their Irish learning adventures for the next episode of my podcast.