Paje-tlhùsamat Alixhlìnye tetlhíjhot-èqras ei tyempa-yòjhwan koxh-ing ke-yaloi-sas khnón ker jhèpa kexhe-qi-xing qaol-exhyeu-yèpyer khnie-xhmoqlu-yènye’ ongujar-upwàr-ixorng íju-yèxhyeu tsena xhmir fhènti’ ejóxoì-yepakh tsena xhnir xhrémes.
Alixhlìnye thought that it may be acceptable for her to keep waiting, when she had nothing else to do, and perhaps the rodent may tell her something worthy to hear.
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Qir oâqe jharsa-tèkhta xhroe qukhetha-yòjhwant pejor qètura kiyaîrukha-yupwar-àxhwa qìr ké polejhe-yeîlwai khnewa-xhlókh-òtya qir xhmèjhetlhe xhthii-yungpu-yeîlwai saqro-yàxhmikhh khnewa-yáqexhnoa-yèkhmo-xeng tsaqnelónge-yeîlwai’ ei-xhrejor, “Kho pajè-wthau texhe-yájhei-xing tú-xing xekhyà-xhmoer khyáxe preti-yàtser-ing?”
For some minutes he or she, not yet speaking, kept puff puffing puffs of incense, and, at last, he or she unfolded his or her wingfins downwards, and removed tobacco pipes from two of his or her mouths again, and chanted, “So do you think, maiden, that you’ve changed yourself, no, a question?”
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“Pexh-ing xui xekhya-qhàfhli,” paje-qhàtiya’ Alixhlìnye.
“I have metamorphosed myself, sir,” chanted Alixhlìnye.
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“Akhàkhma’ aira jin. Kikhes-ànwa pejor xae-yòntet tsipim-ànwa qthula-yojhwa-yòntet tlhotlhonwa-yànwa tnarlkhùrl-atser pú kepu ser,” paje-tàfhli Xhmón Traîkhiim khátoi-yepakh-ùxhwi. “Xhwotail-òntet àfharim àkut Peqlor-ètyikh pú kepu-xhli.”
“I am dearly named ‘The Nomothete.’ By chance, I we am the namer in terms of names, and the rememberer of names, and the asker of names,” chanted the three-span Traîkhiim with all three of his or her heads. “By chance I we am both the primæval and the ancient one among the dancing Pèqlor.”
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Paje-tiênamat pfhofhàxhaxha, “Thwarfhwàsamat ei-xhrejor keis keis texh-ing aî-Swakaîxhrini pú kepu. Ei Khwiîfha-xing kus tsena-Khleson-ènwe jhkhèsepa xhroe xhìkeng pfhu saxhnelónge-yapònya Khwoifhar-ètyikh-ing sefhíju-yaloi-yaôngi khwalpu-yùlkha.”
One head chanted, “I we know whoever you are, little Princess. ‘Tis your Father who is the Prince of the crooked sickle, the one who might have begun overthrowing his Father in the crash of the waves.”
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Paje-fhaplìnamat wtheupta-yèkhwas, “Ei’ Anetàrtha-xing kus Swakaixhrenat-ìnwi koaqing kèjhyi kus fhraô tsena qir lróqa xhnoe khnoaxeir-apònya xháya-yòtya Jhyoiltorù-yejikh syaô kae.”
The other head chanted, “’Tis your Mother who was the Empress who was naturally sad, who lay hidden in a cave, and who might have begun to save the life of her only Son.”
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Paje-fhèpyuliin opèrn-ing sir lyíl, “Eiqhor-tìkhmokh tlhiwa-fhínefha-xing-ìnwi kus Keîqhi-xing Eîl-ejikh xhnoe xhnípe xhexhempa-yejikh-oãkhwe texh-ing. Xhnoet paje-xhixhlelínge pfhompà-yejait trìki thètwos tú-tlhi-xing taê jhpaipalwòthyos-ing texhe-xhli-xing.”
The third head chanted, “And you are the middle born one, their child, the Child of the Sun, and the one who is always ignored. But I, being certain, believe that you remember your name, oh ballerina princess.
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“Swoa-yèfhto lwaôkhh khmarniêtu pfhe khloâru qìr xhré pú-xhni pú-xhli-sur-epyer khnen-opaingakh xhlípè-yejikh tnuî’ eiyíngu-yèxhyeu qir oâqe tyòjo xhroe pàlet jhaîrje pfhu!” khyéja khrífhing-ùpwar.
“I cannot remember things as I used to remember, and I do not continue as the same size for eleven minutes in a swarm!” chanted the maiden.
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“Syesyékar-efhtò-yaxúng khnáng khnáng-axiis tsena pejor kènti?” pajè-xhutse Tsènxhu Traîkhiim.
“Can’t remember what things, a question?” chanted the nanunculus Traîkhiim.
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“Pfheû’ utlhei quja khángpa-yùpwar khwatulísi khyaîtot tsúm tsúmm tnèkher tnèkher khnóri-yeîtlho jhpér-ant pú-xhni-xing s-opaingate quja petsiixhim-ulkha-yìxhna,” pajè-qhepurkh Alixhlìnye xhwàqhunoi ser ing pwìngtol xhroe yusqrun.”
“Okay, I tried to sing the song of the little, hum humming, bombinating bombinatng busy humble bee, but it became altogether different,” Alixhlìnye replied in a voice of great melancholy.
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“Ás xhàfhepel Fhteirkh-ùpwar Áteri-yèjik-hing ker Tharúka Kór tú-yan-ing,” khyéja jhás Traîkhiim.
“Be it that you recite the war hymn of the Ancestor Tharúka Kór,” chanted the Traîkhiim of the westron dreamlands.
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Xhweníketlhang qus jhuîrqramat koe tlhasìxhla pyáxoi-yiêngo-xing Alixhlìnye khwùnaqhi pejor kúl.
After bowing deeply, whilst standing, Alixhlìnye folded up her arms behind her back, beginning in suchwise.
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“Xhlìkis pétsi-Tharúka Kór tú,”
Khyéja’ ár-unengaingpa-yùpwar.
“Eiqhor-tlhòkhpomet qlúras tú qir khátei
Toaqing tlhoar-oâkhwe. Penxhi-yájhei’
Ei-xhrejor teir stím Ptoteî tú-xhli-xing?”
“You are old, agèd Tharúka Kór,
chanted his great-great-grandchild.
“And your head is whispy haired and silver,
As you keep standing on your head. Do you think,
Dear one, you happen to honor our Ancestors?”
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“Poaqing khyuîna,” paje-tàpli Tlharthosaîngpa
Tharúka teiwà-khuka so, “Fhtakhekhe-yèqras
Fhafhaxhìpta xhlir eîleni pú-tlhi-yepyer
Paje-sewu-yìxhna pú khnena-khakháta khnón-utya.
Poaqing swamli-yùngpu poaqing xhliî pú-yan!
“In my youth,” chanted Grandfather
Tharúka to his male descendents, “I was afraid that
I’d accidentally injure my brains, but
I surely know that I have none at all.
I shall stand on my head again!
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“Khwákh ajhoqhar-tú-xing,” khyéja tlhìrnu
Khmarniêtu kúl-ùlkha. “Eiqhòr-qlót tsùsyu
Taqanáxei tú-tlhi-xing-epyer tlhiiramet-oâkhwes
Qthònta-yepakh óngikemet-àlyir. Thiperjà-yikiis
Qlúxherer toaqing khmantajujùrkhte tú-xing?
“Mentoring one, you are old,” chanted the youth,
Mentioning such. “And you wear
Stiff-necked clothing, wearing formal clothing, but
You always somersault throughthe doors as you Perform backflips. How do you hasten, being Ceromonial, as you walk on your hands?
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“Poaqing jhéxoi,” khyéja jhwuníxe khlèmufha
Xhthàrlrei peisqru-yòtya, “Pú-yetwur khuqlènta’ ur
Qoe janayá-qìxhla qhérù-yejait theupíya
Xotóla-yèthya jhkhotas-èxhyeu xhyúla xhroe.
Fherntol-akhpil-ajhwor-èxhloat xhei khyáxe?”
“In my youth,” chanted the sage, shaking
Some of his tresses, which were grey haired. “I Caused my limbs to be lissome, like well-zoned
Maidens, upon the ziggarats of dance.
Don’t you dear ones want to wear pretty red glass ballet slippers?
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“Qáru pfhenásàyuqei túxing,” khyéja pèxhmein,
“Qrie-yèmfhoi khmànikh so khli jhyepet-ètwekh
Qhefheluingiir-èpyer qhorlpèntu lretse-yùpwar
Xhnir khyèngo khnewa-xhyoinesuqhì-yuqei
Xhrorthwin-an-axúng-àlyir khleikha-jhwii-yùlkha.”
“You are an elder with a mask,” chanted
The child, “And your jaws are too weak for things
Tougher than rice noodles, but you finished a swordfish with a heap of bones and its onion of war sword, without removing your mask.”
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“Poaqing khyuîna,” khyéja xhranítikakh, “Jèjet
Tnóje xhroe yontett tqóngi qhaôm xhroa xuxhwi
Qir khlúqesoa xhmaû-yaloi khángpaxhúrtlhàrmat pi.
Sáya-yaswaor-ùxhwi. Tlhekhàrwetsau qir lwàngta Steung-àxhwa qhunekhéqà-yafham khmentha-yàswaor ei pfhu.”
“In my youth,” chanted the patrician, “I learned
Sea shanties and opera trial songs of many sky Pirates in the libraries of the shrines, as I wove Songs for my many wives. The strength, which it Gave my jaws, is much enduring for eternal life.
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“Kéxa-yèmpai’ eilakinthe-yètwekh tú-ing,” khyéja’
Ár-unengaîngpa, “Paje-tsèpre pú jhpèlwa jhpèlwa
Juntoyie-yòntett twúxie-yòntet fhuntarn-èpyer
Xhlànthe lyengékho-yùpwar toaqing jhìmpo
Khlakhtii-yòlkha khaqwuyei-yèthya khàqwuyo xhroe tú-xhli.”
“You are older than sunbows,” chanted
The great-great-grandchild, “I suppose
Your eyelids and eyelashes and eyebrows keep Rocking, but you happen to balance a female Squamous eel on the tip of your nose or cheek or Lip, like the wobbling sky ship movement of Scaramouches.”
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“Khyaîthnematt tafhla-sárka pú-yan-epyer sàrte tei,”
Khyéja khwelqánènthe. “Sákh-étyai lwie-yàlyir-ul
Jhemle-yèlwil! Ás khmìxheko tyoe tú tìtqu-yàmpeit
Pén-ùxhwi xhiwajo-yèmlen xhmir xhriê khmìxhmelor
Emlíxhen-ùtya qir oâqe xúl xhroe xhi-lwi-xhí-sa pfhu pú-yan!”
“I have answered enough questions, and that is sufficient,”
Chanted the remembered elder. “Perform sacred rights,
You many ones who obey without questions! Be it that, unless you leave,
I shall kick all children down the ramps towards stinky piles
Of mud pies for one hundred and ninety nine daylights!”
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“Pyajojo-yoaqe-yòntet twana-yaxúng-oâqe xhnípe pfhe titlhil-ùlkha,” pajè-fhlama Triîming.
“Being wrong and not correct as sung,” chanted the Traîkhiim.
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“Érejar pejor khie-yaxúng khli khyàkha’ ó-tlhi poa,” paje-tsiwòniya’ Alixhlìnye xhwòngpota, “Xhnípe khwót-àxhmikh qlús xhyákh-ùtya pú-xhrejor.”
“Perhaps I am sad to report rather incorrectly,” chanted Alixhlìnye, being timid. “Some of the words spoken by me were altered.”
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“Un-opaingate xhrir tìngping tangpang-àswaor tungpung-èpwo xhmir àni,” paje-yéjar Tlhiimen-ùpwar kus ptiler-oâqe khunguk-èpwo jitlherqhoxhráthan-ùtya stélar-aswaôr-ing xhnoike’ ól xàpwu qir oâqe thyìfhina xhroe.
“’Twas wrong from beginning to middle, from afterword to beginning and end,” chanted the Traîkhiim, breathing out fiery clouds of stardust and dreamdust to the princess, and there was silence for some heartbeats.
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