We move onto the next stanza, somehow connected unto these earlier poems. I offer you first the original, or at least as close to the original as one may hope to find.
Ilu’ Ilúm’atar en káre’ Eln’ain a P’írimoin
Ar antaróta makhn’ar M’alion. Númessier.
Toi’ aina mána meln’ielto’ enga morion.
Talantie. Melqo. Marn’el’o lenn’e. Márie.
The Father made the world for Eln’a and Mnortals,
And He gave it into the hands of the Lords. They are in the West. They are holy, blessed, and beloved, save for the darksome one. He is fallen. Melko hath gone from the earth. ‘Tis goodly.
En kárielto Eln’ain Isil kh’iln’in Úranar
Toi-‘ írimir. Ilyain antalto akhn’ar lestanen
Ilúm’atáren. Ilu m’anya p’anya-‘ oari-‘
Imar ar il-qwa-‘ ímen. Írima yee Númenor.
For Eln’a they made the Moon, but for Mnortals the red Sun,
Which are beautiful. To all they gave in measure the gifts
Of the Father. The world is fair, the sky, the seas,
The earth, and all that is in them. Lovely is Númenor.
Nan úye sere inn’oninya símen ul’ume.
Ten sí yee tyelma yém’a tyel ar i narqwelion
Íre’ il-qwa yém’a nótina kh’ostainyém’a yal’ume
Ananta-‘ úm’a tare p’área-‘ up’área!
But mine hearth resteth not hereslumber for ever,
For here is ending, and there will be an end and the fading,
When all is counted, and all numbered at long last,
But yet it will not be enow, not enow.
Man táre’ antám’a nin Ilúm’atar Ilúm’atar
Enyáre tar i tyel íre’ Anarinya qwelum’a?
What will the Father, oh Father give me
In that day beyond the end when my Sun faileth?
And here is the translation, as best I can manage.
Joapfhárupwarnòxhwoim Elta so yontet Sára †Xhákh
Xhnoe keiyupwarnoxhmil koaqe tnèxenar Fhóngo †Kúxing.
Eqìrxu fhleqeyàxhmikh kúxul.
Tsenxhayòntet fhónejhayòntet thiîna kúxul
Qir sèsum Uîtlhu xhroe.
Tlhintelínge kúxhli. Kàmli Qhemètya xhlir Khmelqo.
The Heavenly Father made the story worlds once for Elta and Mnortals, and He finished giving it into the Lords’ hands.
They who are many are in westron dreamlands.
They who are many are holy, blessed, and beloved
Save for the Darksome One.
He chanced to be fallen. Khmelqo accidently left Glossopoeia. ‘Tis goodly.
Qwásòxhwoim quja’ Elta so kúxul
Eilalrakhòxhwoim quja Sára so kúxul.
Óxhmixuxhwi khmaunòxhmil pejor toîlqa kú
Fhupàyajókh fhál xhnoipe tlhoâ xhnoipe xàmesi
Xhnoipe pyìsya xhnoipe’ eixuxhwi’ eiqi.
Khnúmenoràxhwa khlòrfha’ ei.
On the one hand those many made the Moon for Elta,
On the other hand those many made the Sun for Mnortals.
Both of the dear ones are beautiful.
Unto all sentient beings they gave gifts drosometerly
From the Heavenly Father.
The story worlds and firmament and seas
And earth and all things they have are in fact fair.
As for Khnúmenor, ‘tis loverly.
Eiqhor koaqing seîstu qìr poâ poe wtsókh tunthàyaxúng
Ólyajheqhe fhtékh aqhus ùkheta
Keqoas xhnípeyàxhwa fhenwiyùlkha
Xhnoipe xhnípeyàxhwa tnélùlkha’ eiyingpenuxhwi.
Xhnoet khnenopaingate pyaipefhaxhònxhim xhroe
Sàrte kae yaxúng járl!
Furthermore mine esteemed hearth stones, which are not for e'er, shall not rest here, for this time is ending.
Both the end and the final dissolution of dreams in sooth exist
When all things
entirely are both enumerated and counted.
Natheless, respectfully, the situation is not enow, not enow!
Khmaunayoxhmìlaxiis púxhmi †Khwáfhayan
xhyómpìyaloi qir khyèxhloa fhànto xhroe
What gift shall my Father set out to give me,
Oh royal Heavenly Father,
On the day to come beyond the end
When mine esteemed sun fails?
One would be quite happy to list the words of Babel I have used in the translation above, for it is the least I can do for my beloved Sister by marriage, especially since you will have to make do with what happiness you can since Puey does seem to prefer goldenflaxed maidens to you and will I have no doubt love the slave girls I purchase him far more than he could e'er love a ballerina philologist like yourself. So, we have the sùkhpet lexemes, Zeitwort, alidvau such as Eîl the Sun, the Prime Sun of the Dreamtime, a name for any Cælestial Emperor and eqìrxu those who are in, at, on, in the presence of, near someone or something and Fhál the world, the story worlds, Tàlam, Glossopoeia and fhànto end, endings and fhènwi, fhènwiwi those who count, enumerate someone or something and fhlèqe westron dreamlands and fhónejha, fhónejhot those who are blessed and Fhóngo a word meaning Lords, Æons, Archangels and fhtékh end, ending and fhùpa, fhùpim those who are beautiful, fair and járl employment, situacioun, appointment, inauguracioun into office, quests, stevens, cuardach, ‘entepray’ and jàtekh, jàtekhot those who are beautiful and kàmli those who come from, leave someone or something and khángpa psongs, sung texts and khlòrfha those who are dear, loverly and khmaûn, khmaûna gifts and khwàfha my or our Father and †Khwókhe the Starfather, a name for Aigonz the Father of Paradise and lròjha, lròjhait those who fail and pfhár another one of those words meaning worlds, stories and the rather long word pyaipefhaxhònxha, pyaipefhaxhònxhim those who are enough, sufficient, and pyìsya earth, land and Qhemètye another word meaning Glossopoeia, the Dreamtime and qhòrlpen, qhorlpèntu those who finish off, end, consume, eat someone or something and qhùpti those who are goodly and Qwás, who is the Prime Moon of the Dreamtime; the name for any Cælestial Empress and sára, sàraim mortals; those who are mortal and sàrte those who are sufficient, enough and seîstu those who lie, rest and Thàwel another word for Eîl the Sun and thiîna those who are beloved and tlhìnta, tlhintelínge those who bend o'er, fall o'er, are dead and Tlhoâ which can mean the Starblossom as well as sky, firmament and tnél those who count someone or something and tnèxenar one’s palm of one’s hand and tòlqa, toîlqa balance, scalen, devices to measure weight, drosmetren, skaloj and tsènxha those who are holy and tùntha, tùnthar those who are eternal, for ever and †Twàtlhi which is another name for the Starfather and Uîtlhu the Darksome One, Lord Raven, although in this poem it is surely intended to refer to some other germ of mythopoeia, and ùkheta the Final Dissolution, the End of Time and wtsókh hearth stones and xàmesi seas, oceans and xhyómpi days, any lóng periods of tyme nunow or from nunow.
And in addition I find a few words or dreams from the Void. We have met Elta before, and I copy it again just for the sake of being complete, for I know just how much you love being thorough.
Elta Elta from Eln’a
Fhíriel Fhíriel from P’íriel
Khmelqo Khmelqo from Melko
Khnúmenor Khnúmenor from Númenor
For this stanza I have yet again been able to find another, perhaps older version of it. This one I believe you will find quite interesting since you will see that within the gibberish lie the Babel words khwèjha not yet. But then again, as with some of this nonsense from the void,I have no idea how it is meant to be pronounced, if it is pronouncible by Mortals or Spirits or Immortals at all.
Xelt’axpuxm’at’ Jufh’fh’efh’oq’ Khumangpuxvat’ je
Qox jh’enmokhtá m’am’-xé Xilúxm’atar
Xej jaupux q’itt’uxvat’ okh nofh’tá.
Xem’ t’afh’ jh’akh.
Qum’. Qkhujh’. Fh’angpux jh’akh.
Pi’m khoxht’ó khurq’.
Terax mejpux Melqó. Majqkháx!
The Father, Xilúxm’atar made the world
For Xelt’a and Mortal Men
And gave hit to the open hands of the lords.
They dwell in the North-west.
They are honored. They are merry. They are beloved.
The Darksome Energy Being is different.
He hath fallen, suffering a loss of status.
Melqó hath lheft the earth. Well done!
Xelt’axpuxm’at’ Maxh jh’enmokhtá q’akh
Xajh’ Khumanpuxvat’ Khom’á t’oq jh’enmokhtá.
Khojh’m’at’ Xilúxm’atar jh’ánofh’mei nofh’tá.
Xi’kh qox jh’al fh’iqkhámei pukhmei
Khojh’é ngaxhfh’oq’ je.
For Xelt’a they made the Moon
But for Mortals the great red Star.
The ptwo are beautiful.
To all they gave the ritual gifts of Xilúxm’atar.
The world, the sky, the seas, the dreamlands,
And all it contains are beautiful.
Rekh nat’em’ lexhfhé jukhwij
Nat’em’ rintakhmó xej ngafh’
Taqáx khojh’ toq’lúxt’í.
Khwèjha yap. Khwèjha yap.
Wij M’am’ jikhm’at’ nuq nofh’ m’am’
Beautiful is Núxmenoré.
My home shall not rest hereslumber alwey
Because herethither ‘tis finished and it
Disunappears while all are counted at long last.
‘Tis not yet enough, not yet enough.
Oh Father Mine, what will you give me
In that day
When my great star dies?
 Fíriel’s Song. Eke by J. R. R. Tolkien. Respect, apologies, et cet.
Post a Comment