Kaltxì, ma frapo! I hope you’re all doing well and enjoying the lead-up to summer.

It’s been a while. 😄 But it’s good to be back. To start to make up for lost time, here are 40 new words and expressions that I hope you’ll find useful. Some of these were taken from or inspired by the last LEP submission, some were new terms from the wonderful European radio play, and some were just some items I’ve been meaning to share with you.

To begin, here are some terms having to do with unpleasant situations. (I hope you don’t have to use them often!)

’asap (n., ’A.sap) ‘sudden shock’

Fwa tse’a peyä tìfkeytokit lefkrr lolängu oer ’asap nìngay.

‘It was a real shock to me to see him in his current condition.’

’asap si (vin.) ‘be shocked, be startled’

Oe ’asap soli krra tsafmawnit stawm.

’I was startled when I heard the news.’

fe’pey (vin., fe’.PEY, inf. 2, 2) ‘feel dread, expect something bad to happen, fear’

This is the negative counterpart to sìlpey ‘hope.’ When you hope, you expect or wait for something good to happen. When you dread, you expect or wait for something bad.

Krra pähem Sawtute, pxaya Na’vi fe’parmey.

‘When the Sky People arrived, many Na’vi felt dread.’

As with sìlpey, we use tsnì ‘that’ to talk about feeling dread or fearing that something bad will or won’t happen:

Po fe’poley tsnì ’itan sneyä tìfmetokit ke emzìyeva’u.

‘He feared his son might not pass the test.’

ketrìp (adj., KET.rìp) ‘unfortunate, inauspicious’

This is obviously the opposite of etrìp ‘favorable, auspicious.’

Nga ketrìpa krr zola’u; Ralu set sti ulte ke new ngahu pivängkxo.

‘You came at the wrong time; Ralu is angry and won’t speak with you.’

txansngum (n., txan.SNGUM) ‘desperation; feeling of great worry’

txansngum si (vin.) ‘feel desperate’

Ke lu syuve ulte tute apxay txansngum si.

‘There is no food, and many people are desperate.’

tskawr (vin.) ‘limp’

Oel tseri futa nga tskawr. Srake ngal venut tìsraw seykoli?

’I see you’re limping. Did you hurt your foot?’

txavä’ (adj., txa.VÄ’) ‘disgusting’

This general term derives from txan+ vä’ ‘unpleasant to the senses,’ where over time the n of txan has dropped. But as in English, its use is wider than just for sensory perception.

Lu tsakem txavä’, ma tsmuk.

‘That’s disgusting, bro.’

On to less negative things:

nìflä (adv., nì.FLÄ) ‘successfully’

Soleia! Ngal tìfmetokit emzola’u nìflä! Seykxel sì nitram!

‘You rose to the challenge! You passed the test successfully! Congratulations!’

A few more words incorporating txan:

txantsawl (adj., TXAN.tsawl) ‘giant, huge’

txasunu (vin., txa.SU.nu) ‘love greatly, enjoy tremendously’

While in English you can love your spouse and also love hamburgers, in Na’vi the words are different. For the former, we of course use yawne plus the dative, as in Nga yawne lu oer ‘I love you.’ For the other kind of love:

Txasunu oeru teylu!

‘I really love teylu!’

As you’ve seen by now, words incorporating txan are somewhat unpredictable as to stress (txantsawl but txansngum) and whether or not the n drops (txantsawl but txavä’). So you have to pay attention to each new word!

zeykoyu (n., zey.KO.yu) ‘healer’

Fì’umtsat tolìng ’evengur aspxin zeykoyul a txanro’a.

‘This medicine was given to the sick child by a famous healer.’

tìranpam (n., tì.RAN.pam) ‘footstep (sound)’

Oel stawm sìranpamit! Lerok tuteo!

‘I hear footsteps! Someone is coming!’

ftuopa (adp-; FTU.o.pa) ’from behind’

Sroler fwäkì ftuopa tskxe.

‘A mantis appeared from behind a rock.’

fyeng (adj.) ‘steep’

Nari si! Fayramtsyìp lu fyeng.

’Be careful! These hills are steep.’

kavan (vtr., KA.van, inf. 1, 2) ’support (physically)’

Fol karmavan koaktet tengkrr fmeri po tivìran.

’They supported the old woman as she was trying to walk.’

lepxìmrun (adj., le,PXÌM.run) ‘common, often found’

kelpxìmrun (adj., kel,PXÌM.run) ‘rare’

These two adjectives clearly derive from pxìm ‘often’ and run ‘find.’

zung (vin.) ‘crouch’

Zolung ayoe nekll fteke ayioang tsivun ayoeti tsive’a.

‘We crouched down so that the animals wouldn’t be able to see us.’

fpivìl (intj., fpi.VÌL) ‘hmm, let’s see, let me think’

This useful conversational expression translates the ubiquitous “Hmm” in English, where you’re thinking about or considering what’s just been said. Literally, of course, it means “Let (me) think.”

Fpivìl . . . Kxawm ngaru tìyawr.

‘Hmm . . . Perhaps you’re right.’

kom (vin. modal) ‘dare’

Syntactically, kom behaves like tsun and var—that is, it functions as a modal and requires the subjunctive (<iv>) form of following verb:

Oe ke kom kivä.

‘I don’t dare to go.’

Nga kom pivlltxe oehu tsafya srak?

‘You dare to speak to me like that?’

Note that in English, “dare” sometimes takes an object: “I dare you to tell him what you really think!” But that’s a different verb in Na’vi, something like “challenge,” which we’ll discuss another time.

mam (vtr.) ‘wrap’

Fìsräti pxaw sey mivam fte tsat hivawnu.

‘Wrap this cloth around the bowl to protect it.’

nìtxukx (adv., nì.TXUKX) ‘deeply’

The adverbial form of txukx is used both literally and metaphorically, as in English.

Poanit tsolukx poel fa tstal nìtxukx nemfa heyr.

‘She stabbed him deeply in the chest with a knife.’

Fìtìpawmteri fparmìl oe nìtxukx, slä vay set ke rolängun tì’eyngit.

‘I’ve thought about this question deeply, but I’m sad to say I haven’t yet found the answer.’

Two verbs related to yom:

yomvey (vin., yom.VEY, inf. 1,1) ‘dine on flesh, be carnivorous’

Palukantsyìp yomvey nìwotx.

‘All cats are carnivorous.’

Contrast this last example with:

Fìpalukantsyìpìl yom veyti fratrr.

‘This cat eats meat every day.’

yomzeswa (vin., yom.ZE.swa, inf. 1,1) ‘graze’

Snayerik yeromzeswa mì tayo.

‘A herd of hexapedes are grazing in the field.’

Again, contrast this intransitive example with a transitive sentence like:

Torukìl ke yom zeswat.

‘A toruk doesn’t eat grass.’

raw (adp-) ‘down to’

Kolä oe raw kilvan fte ivaho.

‘I went down to the river to pray.’

Kllza’u yìraw amuve.

‘Descend to the second level.’

You can also use raw for counting down to some number:

Tiam ta vomrr raw pxey.

‘Count down from thirteen to three.’

txap (vtr.) ‘press, press on, apply pressure to’

Txap skxirit fteke reypay wrrziva’u.

‘Apply pressure to the wound so that the blood won’t flow.’

Derived noun:

tìtxap (n., tì.TXAP) ‘pressure’

Note: This word is used only for physical pressure, not psychological or social pressure.

Two nouns related to the verb emkä ‘cross’:

semkä (n., sem.KÄ) ‘bridge’

As you can guess, this word is derived from sä’o ‘tool’ plus emkä, where the expected form *säemkä has evolved naturally into semkä.

emkäfya (n., em.KÄ.fya) ‘ford, crossing’

Fìtseng payfya virä ka ngip areng, ha tsun awnga tsat sivar sko emkäfya.

Here the stream spreads over a shallow area, so we can use it as a ford.

fil (n.) ‘child’s toy, plaything’

sunkesun (adv., SUN.ke.sun) ‘like it or not’

This is obviously a shortened form of sunu ke sunu. The default addressee is “you”:

Sunkesun po slayu olo’eyktan.

‘Whether you like it or not, he’s going to become chief.’

If the “like it or not” is not addressed to the listener, we need to use a different construction:

Pol vìyewng ayevengit fìha’ngir, ftxey sunu fuke.

‘He is going to take care of the children this afternoon, whether he likes it or not.’

maitan (ph., ma.I.tan) ‘my son (form of address)’

maite (ph., ma.I.te) ‘my daughter (form of address)’

These two words are clearly contractions of ma ’itan and ma ’ite and are used in casual conversation as affectionate forms of address, rather like the Spanish mijo (from mi hijo, ‘my son’) and mija (from mi hija, ‘my daughter’).

Maitan za’u fìtseng.

‘Come here, son.’

And now for a little surprise. 😊

loho (vin., LO.ho) ‘be surprising’

The one who is surprised—that is, the experiencer—is in the dative:

Täftxutswo Riniyä loho oer nìtxan.

‘Rini’s ability to weave surprises me a lot.’

Fo tsìk sroler a fi’u loloho poanur.

OR

Loloho poanur fwa fo tsìk sroler.

‘It surprised him that they suddenly appeared.’

Derivations:

tìloho (n., tì.LO.ho) ‘surprise’

A. Epxangmì lu ’upe?

‘What’s in the stone jar?’

B. Tìloho.

‘It’s a surprise.’

nìloho (adv., nì.LO.ho) ‘surprisingly’

Poltxe po nìloho san oe zasya’u.

‘Surprisingly, he said he would come.’

And two astronomical terms:

Tsawkenay (n., tsaw.ke.NAY) ‘Alpha Centauri B’

Tawsnrrtsyìp (n., taw.SNRR.tsyìp) ‘Alpha Centauri C aka Proxima Centauri’

As you may know, the Alpha Centauri system contains three stars: A, the largest and brightest; B, somewhat smaller and dimmer; and C, also known as Proxima Centauri, a much smaller and dimmer star that’s actually the closest star to Earth after the sun.

There’s a good diagram of the relative sizes here (scroll down):

What do the Na’vi call these stars?

A is simply the familiar Tsawke.

B is Tsawkenay. Recall that the stressed -nay suffix creates new nouns that are a step down in some relevant hierarchy—size, rank, accomplishment—from the base noun. Here, Alpha Centauri B is the “Deputy Sun,” since it’s a step down in brightness compared to A.

As for C, litte Proxima Centauri, the Na’vi don’t think of it as a sun at all but rather as the little lamp in the sky, Tawsnrrtsyìp, from taw ‘sky’ + sänrr ‘lamp’ + tsyìp ‘diminutive.’

Colloquially, Tawsnrrtsyìp is often shortened to Snrrtsyìp.

Finally, I want to introduce you to the important word

kuru (n., KU.ru) ‘neural queue’

You’re already familiar with the word tswin, which also refers to the neural queue. For now, we can consider the words to be interchangeable synonyms. It’s possible, however, that as time goes on we’ll be able to pinpoint a difference between the two. If and when that occurs, I’ll be sure to update you.

I have a number of grammatical questions I want to address along with more new vocabulary, so I’ll be in touch again soon.

In the meantime, I hope everyone in Munich is having a fantastic time! Vergnügt euch!

Hayalovay,

ta Pawl

Edit 6 June: Formatting problems fixed. Irayo nìtxan, ma Eana Unil!

Edit 6 June: frato–>frapo, mam (vin.) –> mam (vtr.) Irayo ngar, ma Vawmataw!