Ceci est une traduction d'une fanfiction que j'ai écrite en néerlandais. Pourquoi, parce que je devais le faire pour un cours donc voilà... Possibles fautes d'orthgraphes et de grammaires !

(Voor de fediprompt van 4 february :) )

Gordon was tijdens zijn leven een trotse inwoner van Lordaeron geweest. Hij wist dat hij zich in het centrum van menselijk invloed van die tijd bevond en zag dat terug in alles wat hij toen tegenkwam.

Hij was tevreden geweest.

Overdagwerkte hij in een simpele kruidenierswinkel. Het was een mooie gebouw geweest, deze winkel. Hij zag nog steeds de kasten vol met planten : gemalen dreamfoils in stenen potten, in blokjes gesneden earthroots of blacklotus die in grote kleipotten zijn geweest. Daarbij kwamen nog de voorraden gereedschappen, messen en slijpstenen, die niet meer te tellen waren, en de drankjes en verzorgingsproducten.

Hij zag nog steeds de verschillende klanten in de winkel binnenkomen. De priesters ven het Licht, groot en arrogant als ze waren, moesten in contact komen met de artsen et magiërs die ze verachtten. De magiërs moesten op hun beurt respect toner voor de artsen en kruidendokters die hen met goed hart naar de juiste planten leidden.

Hoe hij zijn dagelijkse werk had gehouden. Hij, leerling van kuidendokter Guenther. Hij had ven leren genoten.

Maar niets kon tippen aan zijn liefde voor zijn nachtwerk, zelf nu nog niet, hoewel hij dat steeds weer imiteerde.

Hij herinnerde zich nog het jaar, de dag – wat zei hij – het moment waarop zijn leven een anere wending had genomen.

Hij was een jonge man van 15 jaar geweest en zijn moeder had hem meegenomen naar Gilneas om daar een verre nicht te ontmoeten. Hij was een beetje geïntrigeerd door de mode daar, die zo sterk geïnspireerd was door de omringende duisternis. De mannen droegen donkere kleing die ze «costard» noemden, in paats van de kleurrijke tenieken die typische waren voor Lordaeron. De vrouwen droegen dezelfde kleuren als de mannen, maar dan met jurken met petticoats en bustiers. Hij had zelfs de kans gehad om een van die «costard» te dragon, tijdens een speciale avond.

De speciale avond.

Ze waren naar een mooi gebouw gebracht, een theater qua indeling. Muzikanten met lieren, piano’s en violen stonden net voor het podium, iets lager. Hij zat met zij groep, niet dicht bij de achtergrond en niet dicht bij het podium.

En dan was er de fantasie.

Een man en een vrouw uit Gilneas zongen uit volle borst. Hij werd vervoerd.

Opera, dat was het.

En sindsdien deed hij opera.

Hij leerde zingen, het hart ven een publiek te raken door zijn stem te trillen. Hij leerde hoe hij een avond lang een sprookjesachtig avontuur, een tragisch avontuur tot leven kon brengen.

Zelfs in Lordaeron, waar hij een van de pioniers was geweest.

In deze theaters ontmoette hij de Grote Namen. De nobels, de magïers, de King… Hij zong op feesten. Hij zong op buffetten.

Hij zou ook moeten zingen voor de thuiskomst van Prins Arthas. Maar dat feest kwam er nooit.

Net zoals hij had geflirt met verschillende niveaus van her leven in Lordaeron, had de Dood, de ondood, alle vormen van hiPerarchie weggenomen. Er was de Death Knight Arthas, en de anderen. Ook toen Sylvanas de Banshee, de redder, kwam, bleef deze sociale gelijkheid bestaan.

En nu is hij, in de dood, zijn eigen potionwinkel in de krochten van Undercity runnen. Zelfs bij de ondoden hadden gifstoffen hun nodig. Hij zou erop hebben gelachen.

Maar hij lachte niet.

Hij spral ook niet veel.

Want de ondood had onuitwisbare sporen achterlaten op zijn huid, op zijn lichaam : zijn lichaam vergaat, hoewel hij van binnen «levend» was. En dus ook zijn keel.

Jullie kunnen de voeten verwijderen, aangezien deze nutteloos waren voor een ondode die vastzat in de Undercity. Jullie kunnen de handen, de armen, de haar verwijderen ! Hij zou ze duizend keer geven als dat zijn stem kon behouden. Hij wilde het niet verliezen.

Een eeuwigheid van haat en goddeloosheid zonder te kunnen zinger ? Zonder te kunnen trillen ? Het leek wel alsof het een eindeloze nachtmerrie was.

Nu leek zijn levvensstijl een beetje op die van toen hij nog leefde. Overdag werkte hij in zijn winkel. En ‘s nacht zong hij.

Zachtjes, bijna stil. Zonder te veel trillingen, ander kan hij zijn stem en keel beschadigen. En voor en na elke lied gebruikte hij zalven, siropen en drankjes om wat hij nog had zo goed mogelijk te beschermen.

Zodat hij opera kan continueren.

En zijn lied, dat vroeger bedoeld was vood de Lordaeronniërs, zal aan de ondode worden geschonken.

I faît nût asteure. Lès mouchons ne tchantenut pus ; is avin.n' in.mé mia lèyi l' sin.ne aus-houlotes.

Dji so dins l' vwèture à méyenût tapant. Dji choûte mi tchèt qui ni sét qwè pinser. Dji sondje qu'i si dimande : “Poqwè ce qui faît nût ?”, “Poqwè nos-èstans dins l' vwèture ?”, “Poqwè ce qu'i-gn-a nin di lét ?”

Bin sûr, Dji ni faî nin qui di sondjî, ca tot ci qui dj' ètind, ç' èst li qui gnâwe. I gnâwe èt a rèwèyî l' Pitite. Sacrè Numérô Quate !

Dji vôrè bin li dîre do dwârmu avou mi, mins dji crwè qui ça n' îreûve nin.

Vèyans nos voltî, c' èst tot simpe à fé.

Dji so asèksuel, mins dismètant mès r'chêrches da mi, au c'mincemint, dji pinseûve qui dj' èsteûve bi (Dji rissinteûve l' min.me po tortos… Après pou sawè qu' c' èsteûve “rin”, ç' a stî plus malaujî xD)

L' intolèrance èst one idéye fwârt malaujîye pou mi, dji n' li comprind nin. Min.me d'on pwint d'vûwe lojike, vos n' avoz pas d'ôte tchôses à fé ???

Brèf, audjoûrdu, c'èst li djoû conte l' homofobîy, li bifobîy èt li transfobîy. Min.me si tos lès djoûs d'vrin.n ièsse come ça. Audjoûrdu, nos nos mètans avoû lès couleûr di l' aîr-diè 🏳️‍🌈,🟥🟧⬜🩷🟪,🏳️‍⚧️,🟥🟦🟪 :D

#walon

I went back to the scripts in Chants of Sennaar and I wanted to write some stuff with them.

But, due to purely gameplay limitations, we don't have the full written languages. So based on what I imagined the different cultures to be like, I started to create #fanlang based on that and how those languages would evolve after the end of the game.

So here's a first attempt. I don't know if I'll continue, but it was fun to do!

1st Talks

To see the original picture : click HERE

Translation (not literal):

Devotee : Salutation. I am a gardener. I love plants. Do you like plants? Guerrier : I don't like plants. I love my Duty. You impure... You protect plants. Is that your Duty? Devotee: I protect plants. I like looking at plants. Do you want to look at plants? Warrior: ... I'd like to Devotee: Come on! (written in yellow) : 1st Talk

If you want a literal translation, there are several points to consider:

• The warriors don't have any concept of individuality (pronouns) in their language, but after the game (and what happens in the game), they start to have ‘pronoun’ undertones in the way they use words (like singularising). They don't have a determiner either.
• The signs before the dialogues are therefore Devotee and Warrior but by a Bard, who observes the scene. *For aspects that they don't have in language, such as being able to ask questions, people draw inspiration from what other people are doing. In this case, they imitate the signs of the Bards, in their own way.

Translation literal :

Devotee : Salutations. Me be gardener. Me love plant plant. question sign you love plant plant question sign Warrior : plural warrior not love plural plant. Plural Warrior love Duty. Plural impure... question sign plural human protect plural plant question sign. question sign Be Duty question sign Devotee : Me protect plant plant. Me love plant plant look. question sign You look plant plant question sign Warrior : ... Warrior love. Devotee : come me ! (written in yellow) : talk 1

Fun Fact :D

The pencils and brushes are different depending on who is speaking/writing. The Bard writes with a calligraphy brush, and draws the plant with it. That's why the strokes are curved and fluid.

The Devotee writes with a basic pencil/pastel. The lines are ‘not steady’ but curved. His representation is in the image of writing, basic, with curves.

Warriors write with a hard pencil. He only writes with straight lines, pressing almost too hard on the paper. His drawing follows this logic, staying within the straight lines: the arms are triangular and straight.

This text was originally written in French and has been translated, in part, with the help of a translation service. (I'm already practising with one language, so I can't be juggling three at the same time!)

WEEKLY UPDATE 1 ˖ ࣪‧₊˚⋆✩٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ✩

Introduction

Hello there!

Here's the first update on my attempt to learn Walloon on my own, since I don't have time to breathe, let alone go to classes at the moment...

But instead of focusing on my declining mental health (sleep, come back, I love you!) , I'm going to tell you about my progress this week.

For personal reasons, I haven't been able to make as much progress as I'd have liked, but I think ‘three’ lessons a week seems to be a good compromise for me to get some sleep...

But then you think, what have I done this week?

Les leçons

As I have a memory like a goldfish, I made a nice little written document (made with LibreOffice writer, we love open source here) that I'm going to transcribe here :D

Le 13 ;

As I love conlangs, I wanted to try my hand at translating a short text. I don't know if it's right, but the aim was to have a bit of fun before diving into the serious stuff.

Here's the original post on Reddit

So what i needed to translate was this :

Hand in hand, we're standing strong Together we'll work out whatever is wrong! Hand in hand, we'll build a wall We'll form a chain of love that's stronger than it all!

After some times, i did this (as always, if someone out there knows wallon and can correct me, please do so !) :

Mwin dans l’ mwin, nos-èstans fwârts, Èchone, nos rèsoûrans tot ç’ qui n’ va nin Mwin dans l’ mwin, nos bâtirans on meur Nos fôrmerans one tchin.ne di amoûr pus fwârte qui tot !

(I didn't try to rhyme the sentences. Translating the whole thing almost literally was hard enough, so...)

I also did this first lesson , which enabled me to write this sentence:

Bondjoû ! On m’ lome Plumerin.ne. Dji d’mère à Intèrnèt. Dji so bin binauje di v’s awé rescontré ! Jusqu’à on djoû ! :D

Le 14 :0

I did the second lesson, which enabled me to see some expressions like “Vo-lès-là totes” or “J' qu' à bin rade”.

I've also seen how the words ‘Voici’ and ‘voilà’ are used in Walloon : i.e. I saw how the word was split in two.

And I also spent a lot of time trying to understand how ‘’that‘’ was used… Qué or quén- ? Also the term “How many” :D

Le 15

In English, there's no such thing as ‘vouvoiement’ or ‘tutoiement’, but in French it's very common. In Walloon too, but not for the same reasons. It's impolite to be on “ti”/tu terms with someone, you're always on “vos”/vous terms…

But for the most part it was just adding vocabulary to anki.

Anki and vocabularies ?

You can see it's just the beginning, I'm not very regular ahah it's not good but it's a start... I did 4 day out of 7...

I've got 129 vocabulary cards, which is not bad for 3 short lessons.

ENd ?

That was my first week. I know how to say hello and I can see how Walloon is constructed grammatically.

I'll see you next week :DD

#walon

This text was originally written in French and has been translated, in part, with the help of a translation service. (I'm already practising with one language, so I can't be juggling three at the same time!)

Introduction

Languages are very interesting because they represent the culture and ideology of a people and their way of thinking and transmitting messages. I think it's obvious that I love languages, given my passion for conlangs, which allows me to play with the different ways in which concepts and notions can be articulated in a language, as well as the different ways in which the grammar of a language can be formed.

But what I really enjoy is ‘learning’ languages.

Especially when they are close to something important to me.

Why am I telling you this? Because this text – and those that will follow, I hope - is a pure product of the social networking era and of our needless need to overshare ourselves: I'm going to write about my path towards mastering one language in particular, Wallon.

I'm not going to pull out information from Wikipedia (which, even in English, is very interesting by the way! : Walloon language).

But it's important for me to say that in the last century (1900 onwards), Walloon was virtually forbidden to be spoken in schools and other public places. The result: in less than a century, almost the entire population no longer knows how to speak Walloon.

My grandmother spoke Wallon, I can't.

I didn't like it.

So, instead of passively accepting the fact that the language of my ancestors was near to be no longer spoken, I decided to learn to write and speak it.

And to force myself to keep to this commitment, this learning, every week I'm going to make a summary of what I've done on the subject during that week (texts, words, grammar, etc...). I'm doing it on my own, not because I'm lazy, but because I'm unable, at the moment, to go to the few small evening classes available in Belgium (time constraints, geography...).

Anyway, that was the intro. For the next few, it won't be there. Welcome to my adventure! :D

Learning

Because I'm self-taught, I learn by writing different sentences. But I also use a very interesting website which is a goldmine for self-taught learners: Beljike.be

Well, so far I've really been concentrating on les noms

Exercises and case studies

I'm sure there are mistakes, as I'm just starting out, but you have to start somewhere. Compilation of what I've tried to do so far:

• Fanfic Title : Li song dau Koltira which mean “Koltira's blood”.

• A small texte in the above fanfic :

Èt vos m’ dimandez, m’ Madame dè l’ Mwârt, vos m’ dimandez qu’ dji frè po l’ rawè d’ novia à mès costés ? Dji vos dîrè « tortos ». Nin pace qu’ dj’ a nin tûsé èt dji sèprè nin dîre au jusse lès limites do c’qu’ dji so capâbe. Dji vos dît « tortos », pace qui v’s èstiz là, quand dji v’s a ôrdonè dins l’ timps do l’ rilachî èt ci maugré tot. Dji vos dît « tortos », pace qu’ sins li dji so rin, li qui èst m’-y âme, mi-y song, èt li rèstant d’ l’ umânité qui dj’a nin pus.

Which translate to :

And you ask me, My Deathlady, you ask me what I would do to have him back by my side ? I would tell you « everything ». Not because I haven't thought about it, and I wouldn't know the limits of what I'm capable of. I say « everything », because you were there when I ordered you to go and free him against all odds. I say « everything », because without him, I am nothing, he who is my soul, my blood, and the rest of humanity that I no longer have.

• A ficlet Fanfic : Lès biscwîts sont l' vîye : fanprompt do 4 awous' (Biscuit)

END

So there you have it, I hope to do more translating and writing next time because it's pretty empty right now...

Thanks for reading! :D

#walon

Better to read this on paper.wf Was first posted on wix 21 december 2021

A bit of yuwwoowian :D

a little #conlang fun lol

my one lord ... 1.SG:PRON feel-PRS:V ...myfeeling-PL:N seep-PRS:V out 1.SGET...

It was fun to do ahah, but I feel I'm really tired lol

Better to read this on paper.wf Was first posted on wix 10 december 2021

A bit of yuwwoowian :D

a little #conlang fun lol

an old post from wix from 05 december 2021 (05/12/2021) Like always, it's better to read this on paper.wf

A Joke Conlang : Loving other languages

The font of this #conlang really need some work ahah ( maybe the alphabet too lol)