Monday, October 24, 2011

Alice Chapter Two -- the Legend Continues ...

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Thá jhefhíjur qrèqrewa thùngqu thyejojo-yùtya khòkhteu jhexhnoa-yèkhmo kexh-ing-epyer jherójo teiwa-yaîxas qhefhiróro-yan xhele tlhir jhkhàrlqe’ aixei-yèxhyeu’ èqya khwóm-an-ing.  Soníxáxa-yòjhwa Khyiîri khmothaîkamet pejor òngujo jhangétsu-yòjhwa tsena xhnir xór qyikhesortsujhi-yutya-yiîlwat qir oêl qhoraifhepèlpi xhroe koaqing qthèfhternt fhlá xhnir fháli-xing khwàli koaqing stór tei-xing.
Afterwards she barely heard a portion of light weight stumbling, tap tap tapping, from feet far away, and hastily she hurried to dry her tears to see what was coming.  ‘Twas the White Jackalope, returning, in splendor panoplied, with a pair of white gloves made of qhoraîfhe dinosaur hame in one paw and a large hand fan in the other.
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Teyáku tròti xhwikiswíwimèt-ajókh xhola tlhir khmafhàxhru xhlothelónge’ ei-xhrejor pón-e-xhmi pejor xhmíri, “Xaô-Pèqyu Tùrkhaka’ aqha!  Lwór-Fhàfhemor Tùrkhaka stae!  Janya-tnae-yàmpein kú-xeng pasta-yatser-ojhwa’ ur koe kú-xeng pú!”
He came, galumphing, hurrying in fact, muttering, saying to himself as he came, “Ah!  The honored, Twyndyllyng Duchesses!  The beloved, Twyndyllyng Duchesses, woe!  Both of them shall be wild, if I keep causing them to wait!”
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Auyíkelónge komm tnauqontu-yejikh-àjhwen Alixhlìnye qoe jhpae-yòtyus fhelur-ùtya qlús-ùjhwa ke-xhing kho thúrà-yatser ánáta Soníxáxa-yònwo paje-qhekhèkhna xhwàqhunoi èmfhit fhràxei ser jhpèpti kexhe-xhni-xing, “Fhóyeke-jathit pú-xhmi aî-xhmójaja tú-yories!”
Alixhlìnye so felt nervousness that she was prepared to implore held of any wight, so, when the Jackalope came near the maiden, she began to say, in a low, shy voice, “Please, honor me by speaking to me, elegant thing!”
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Soníxáxa-yàxhwa xekhyà-fhejhi xhnafhtim-èthya’ apanta-yeîlwai qtaina-yàxhmikh qteûkh pfhu qhoraifhethukhta-yùtya lrinxhan-eîlwai xenáxotha-yàxhmikh jhalri-yeîlwai qir kharxhreqheyéxhe qhelkhemet-èthya xhnir fhoâ.
The Jackalope stopped itself, like a violet storm, dropping the white gloves of qhoraîfhe dinosaur leather and hand fan and hurry-scurrying into the darkness as quickly as possible.
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Pòyim inòxeqhe fhali-yupwar-òntet qlùto’ Alixhlinye-yan-èpyer fhoa-yejet-èmpai tsena xhmir khmortyatyìnxhu kexh-ing xekhya-khmiqhímengay-òjhwent pejor thùyeir thùyeir ei-xhrejor, “Xèkhnu xèkhnu’ okhon oiyo tlhín-aloi khórt!  Xhnoet ólu ketlha-yèxhyeu tsena xhmir khmòta khwiê khyi kòrot.  Pajè-fhalës pú s-opaingakhh khréxhye khmolreqhè-yejikh qir khneûtqi-xing?  Khmefhexhna-yáxeus khyi khmaum pú!  Arxha-yájhei pú poaqing kormàntu khlaxàk-aloi qhortel-ùtya?  Paje-yujáxo-yèmfher pú khmarniêtu’ ei-xhrejor khìthyu pú-xhni-sa xhyuxhìnene jhyàsqa thi pú-yepakh.
Alixhlìnye picked up the hand fan and the gloves, and, because the teahall was very hot, she kept fanning herself as she chanted, “Alack, alas!  How peculiar all things are today!  And all things existed yesterday in a very cominal manner.  I wonder whether I have become mutated in the previous nights?  Hmmm … would that I think!  Was I the same, when I got up from sleep, during the morning rain?  I almost think that I remember feelingf differences, a little.
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Xhnoet pejor khnen-opaingakh santò-yejikh jhèmlei khyirsyàrxhnoma kúl-àqwa “Xhyús pejor Khriifhapinaraniitìkhta pú?  Swamlum-usqrun qhar tei-xing.”  Eiqhor-tlhùsamat soên khorna-khnèsqe xhmó kae sixe-yóxe-yùlkha jhkhiîkha pfhu pón-e-xhmi xhnujáxò-yafham kexhe kae xing khwunaqhi-yanìnwi xhnir fhènti-xing tlhotlhonwa-yèxhyeu’ ei-xhrejor kexh-ing s-opaingate khréxhye qlús kekexhe-yetyikh kexh-ing.
But, were I not the same, such thing, ‘tis, is the next question: “Who, in the Covenant with the Lands, am I?  Aha!  That’s the great jigsaw puzzle.”  And she set out, beginning to ponder her Sisters, who were all the maiden children of the same age as herself that she knew, to inquire whether she became any of them.
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“Xhw-opaingakh tseu sámà-yaxúng-ejikh Steqírenat Xerxhaláta kae,” khyéja kexh-ing, “tnereû-yejet xhthàrlroi tsikhímu pàrkar kúl ser saroi-yeîlwai pwisapfhelínge-yaxúng èqlelun sae sairaru-yeîlwai xhnoet sirnà-yatser khnólyakh per Saikaîxhren Khnoqwísi’ aqwanità-yejet khleî pú-xhli-yepyer jhyòpi sewù-yejikh lwa khuswoi-yòntet khwefhla-yàjhwen khmeûn xhroe tqáqar pfhu kekexhe-yepakh-ing.
“I truly am other than my sister, Cælestial Princess Xerxhaláta,” she chanted, “for her hair flows in autumnal, long tresses, but my hair does not fall in rondures, but, certainly, in sooth, I am not Crown Princess Khnoqwísi, because I happen to know many things, but, lwa! she merely happens to know ballet and inventing things that malfunction.
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Xhnoet khmá-yèkhwis ólyana ker khmakhim-èkhwis xhnoe khnaya-yèngit ólyakh per íkhìl-engit xhnoe pùntung puntung-òntet pìnting pinting-òntet pàntang pàntang tnaqnasta-yùjhwu xoe.  Jhetlhujáxei-yàmpeit khùrit kei-pejos xhèkhramat khloâru qìr xhré pú-xhni trati-yan-ìnwi pú-xhni.
Besides, verily verily she is she, and verily verily I am I, and, no!  How puzzling, how non-understandible, how neither-understandible-nor-puzzling all things are!  I shall try to list all the things that I used to know.
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Khyaîreu!  Fhé’ ewi jí’ ól xhíxhi xhnoet fhé’ ewi thé’ ól tlhéxhi xhnoet fhé’ ewi lwí’ ól … taê’ Eîl xá Qwás akhan!
Let’s see!  Four times five is eleventy one, and four times six is eleventy two, and four times seven is … Alas, oh Sun and Moon!
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Qìfhis júxhi-yaipoit-ùnyie júxhi xhroe pú-sa.  Fhròti khwiirlrusàqya jhalti-yulkha-yàjhwen khnùnxhu xhroe tlhengpa pejor xhàmana.
I am fated, thus, never to calculate eleventy nine, in fact.  However, the alchemy of multiplying numerals in Base Eleven Alchemical Notation is broken.
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Újar-áxeus talamoilajhekhqu-yùtya’ ó poa.  Fhtuîta qir Eréjet Eilasaiyanor-èpyer fhtuîta qir Khàqra’ Eréjet-èpyer Khaqra-yàxhwa … un-opaingaja’ aiyo kúl pfhompa-yatser-ìxhna pú.  Xhnípe-yìthni tórkh-ejikhh Khnoqwísi-yàswaor pú-yepakh-ing-e-sa.
Perhaps, let’s ponder geology-geography-archæology.  Eilasaîyanor is the citadel of Eréjet, and Eréjet is the citadel of Khàqra, and, as for Khàqra … alas!  Such things are wrong, I’m altogether certain.  I, for one, by chance, surely have been exchanged for Khnoqwísi!
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Xhàfhepel xhthui-yùpwar keis qte “Khùsqai khùsqai prilyalrern-ùpwar,” uqte xhmanùmatant pú-xhni,” xhnoe tsàrna xhneweî-yepakh tsutsusìfha-yan teiqhafhrie-yùlkha xhlir xhyúla pejor twètwexa pei-yutya-yepyer ìjufhi xéso tòwa stór pfho xhwàqhunoi sae yepyer khwimikoyoxhriê-yaxúng xhlir àrxha tokhilù-yepakh.
I shall try to recite the idyl, “How the thunderstormlike Leviathan,” and, she spun in arabesques, as she sang her lessons in ballet, beginning to repeat it, but her voice sounded like ‘twas crying loud and hoarse, being silly and strange, though it did not mean to, and the words did not move by way of same and normal things.
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Khùsqai khùsqai prilyalrern-ùpwar
Peûte pfho Jekhnèntru-yan xhnir tqaû
Kus wthòrmama khneníqàrne
Pejor Xhwún Toîfha khlaxak-àxhmikh
Fhájha-yùtya khorna koaqing xhepfho-yaôjha.
How the thunderstormlike Leviathan,
On purpose, exercises his sparkly tail,
As he inhales and pours libations
Of Xhwún, the Father Of Watren,
Upon all of his golden squamous scales.
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Khàtqais khatqaîs-atser  p-opaingate’
Euyi qwesùr-ejikh Jekhnentru-yònyii
Kus khnìjhi jùmfhun khwunama-yòlkha
Khwekorm-èxhyeu thyokhà-yejikh twèpa
Yontet kèxhle xhlir qhefheluîngoir plát kú.
How festally the Leviathan, on purpose,
Happens to seem to sneer,
Being trig and trim, opening his ivory tusks,
In order to welcome both lissome mermaids
And candy pirates with smiling jaws.
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“Un-opaingateqha qui fhaen-àxhmikh eûfhunt pfhu tei,” paje-yeiléja’ Alixhlìnye tqarjhekhepersa-yèpyer xhlir tneûfhta xekhya-xhuwai-yùngpu tlhén-ìyepakh pejor fhòwa paje-thiijhwelónge, “Kho xhw-opaingakhh Khnoqwísi xhroe’ ó poa yepyer khíthaûmet khulamat-àmpeit koaqing qleqaîneqhe xhnòtlhomet Khlepixhòpa-xing Jhetrukh-àntar pú-yan xhnoike khnón-anyung qroju-yutya-yòntet qhimlaqraqa-yòntet astiixhàxhma pú-qi plejhi-yexhyeu-yèpyer fhtaqtemat-àthwar akhan khleî kóm xhmèxhata pfhu pím-ùtya pú sae!
Of course those are wrong versions of the proper words,” chanted white ankled Alixhlìnye, and her eyen filled themselves with teardrops again as she continued, saying, “So, I truly am Khnoqwísi, perhaps, and I shall have to migrate and live in the Sorcerer’s uncultured stone hut by the Forbidden Mountains, and I shall have almost no clockwork toys, no ballerina dolls, no string marionettes for playing, and, alas!  I will have to learn so many tedious lessons!
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Paje-xhyarselónge-yùpwar qtoe poaqing tíkh pú pejor ólakh per Khnoqwísi jòfhyumat sámo-yàxhmikh qir xhmèjhetlhe pú!  Tokhùkhtim ei kuqwurnwù-yipau xhwòyan khátoî-yepakh xhmiiyòjhwa’ ei-xhrejor, ‘Tlhér íreu lwór-jana-tlhéxha-xing!’
Yes, I understand in my mind that, if I’m Khnoqwísi, I shall remain down in present places!  ‘Tis useless for those saying, ‘Go up, oh my beloved Princess!’ to stick their heads down hither.
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Jhyòpi xhmaê-yejikh xhmèfhteqhe paje-xhmòqlu kae pú-sa, ‘Kho xhyus ó poa?  Trí khneu-yelefheqhe-yétyai kei-xhrejor-ing-epyer pú-xhmi qìr té pejor ólakh per khnesqa-yèkhwis khniîrlpa paje xhnir khnèrei xhwárs-àmpeit pú-yepyer quîma fhlifhors-àmpeit tlhielèkhwufho se qìr poâ pú-yan es ólakh per qlús jhèpa,’ yepyer akhan aiyo!” Paje-yòrpyel Alixhlìnye tnàkhyur jhìfhwa khwarikhù-yepakh khwunil-ùtya, “Khrethetlhir-áxeus khyi’ opern-òlkha pejor éngi kú!  Tnau-yèmpai kóm pú qeîn so ajókh-oipil!”
In fact I will merely look upwards, saying, ‘So, who may I be?  First tell me, and then, if I, liking it, loving being yon maiden, I’ll go up, but otherwise I shall remain underground, hereabouts, until I become someone else,’ but, alas!” cried Alixhlìnye, weeping with sudden explosions of teardrops, “Would that they put their heads or faces down!  I, being very alone here, am so very tired!”
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Pei pfhu’ elèpyil jòyim xhele-yayíkhra qthefhtern-olkha-yèpyer qoâtrin kexhing qoe qúxai fhìsqa’ ei-xhrejor sètwa khuîn teiqha-yejosòxhra’ ùsti kúyeit-ùtya qhoraifhelrethot-ùtya Soníxáxa pón-e-tlhi xuxurfhrè-yepakh.  “Xhyei-xhmoas xhloên jhpuqte-yèfhto kúl qìr xhré pú-xhli?” paje-pènxhi pyàkhtanga.  “Qlunyelínge qlúngemet qlumeqhe-yungpu-yìthni qlutim-èxhyeu pú.”
That’s what she chanted, looking down upon her hands, and she was flabbergasted to observe and see that, as she spake, she accidently put on one of the Jackalope’s little white gloves of qhoraîfhe dinosaur hame.  “How could I have done such?” she thought.  “Surely I must be growing, growing, growing small again.”
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Jhumpe-yìxhrit-ing xhele-tsen-àqhujhut kexh-ing khmafhur-èxhyeu pón-e-xhrejor khnainik-epakh-ing-aiqhor tùfhri pajè-qlui’ éxho-xing qwungqot-ethya-yànyung xhnir fhoâ khrárt-efhtò-yafham kexhe kae xing xhméri-yoîpil thyiêsoa tiîrkhqi-xung kexhe-xhli-xing-inwi-yepyer khnikasoso-yòjhwant pejor khyafhekúfha’ exh-ing.
Getting up, she moved up to the triangular and circular table so as to measure herself by it, and she discovered, understanding that, as nearly best as possibble, a possibility which she could guess, she was now, by chance, about four half hands in height, but she kept shrinking rapidly.
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Wthoe-yìnthei paje-xùtamat wtsaîlru-xing xenáxatho ponxhè-yafham kexhe kae yonwoxing thau-yùpwar kúl-aswaor-èpyer jhkhàrlqe xhrèyetlher kei-xhrejor-ing kexhe-xhli-xing tyòjoka tirim-atsèr-ajókh qoe jhwé-yupwarn-ofhyor-ìxhna’ íkhil-ing.
Finding out soon, she learned that the cause for such was the hand fan she held by accident, and she hastily dropped it, at the last moment in fact, in order to stop shrinking away altogether.
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“Tei’ ólya ker pepètlhaxha fhaîxhot!” pajè-fhlama’ Alixhlinye-yìnwi trexhefhíro-yajók-hafham qàmpera pfhu xing tlhenújo-yempai-yìnwi paje-kapè-yatser ólyana fhenti-yèkhwis.  “Khmaô’ oaqi-yáxeus tlhòjhweqhe pú-yan!”  Eiqhor xhlir xèngpe pámaqim pfheltelínge tsena tlhir kènxha tàrto-xing jheloâs-utakh.
That, in sooth, was a lucky escape!” chanted Alixhlínye, quite frightened by the sudden, unexpected change, and glad, understanding that she was, indeed, existing.  “Now may I enter the garden!”  And, with great velocity, running, she flew to the little door.
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Xhnoett tekhwuwu-yungpu-yùkhwu fhorme-yaîqhor koaqing kèfhwewe tàpa-xing qliso-yaîtlho xhré-yèthya tòkhqi jhoê khlùntim.  “Eiqhòr-jhenei qìfhis khnáng-òjhwa,” paje-xhmèmli xhmunífhero xhnir euxaixíxoi “Qìfhis amlèn-ejet kóm kúl-èthya pú.  Qìfhis ei!  Xhnoet fhtoâ tàfhli’ ei-xhrejor pú tínu-yengut-àqwa qyóyot-èmpai!”
But the small door was shut again, alas! and the small golden skeleton key lay on top of the crystal glass table just like the past time.  “And things have never been worse,” thought the balletic maiden, “Because I have never been so small as thus.  Never!  And I profess, saying that the situation, ‘tis, that is too wretched!”
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