Kaltxì, ma frapo.

It’s my pleasure to present to you, as a listening exercise, an evocative narrative poem by our Tsyili. The recording is by the author and Tirea Aean.

In any language, poetry is more difficult than prose. So don’t be surprised or disturbed if you find this challenging. Listen to the recording several times to get as much as you can out of it. Then compare it to the Na’vi text. Finally, check the translation, which Tsili herself supplied, to see how much you understood.

Here’s the recording:

Text atan trrä salew

ta tsyili fìtxon’ongä atan herum nìwin io tsray

a lu tsaru frahapxìtu a fìtsap näpìn leymfe’sì.

ronsemmì aylì’u fey ‘ì’awn na txewma fpeio afpxamo.

heyn po kilvanä paytxewlok, wem wä sngawpay.

tsakilvanä pay wew lu. fìtxon’ongmawä atan herum nìk’ong ftu

frakrr peyä soaiä kelku a fayramti tarmok.

meyam pol afpawngti a ke tsolun kawtu srivu’.

tsìk peyä hiyìka ‘oneo a fnu nìwotx kllwo tìfmetok.

peyä ran mawey slu. raw emkäfya tskawr po.

fìkilvanä pay vawm slu mì seng alìm.

nìsyep fol peyä aysäfpìlti fyep.

tìng nari po ne fìsalewfya ulte zawng. na sa’nok a fe’pey rol ayyayo.

virä tsatxansngum fte mivam ayutralpxaw.

txansngum si fraioang tengkrr neto po tskawr.

sunkesun sop po. fraioang syeraw, san

pesengne po kerä. [collapse]

English translation the light of day passes

by tsyili the light of sunset is leaving quickly over the village,

whose every member look at each other and complain.

their1 words remain in the mind like a terrible scary challenge.

they2 sit by the river’s shore, fighting tears.

that river’s water is cold. this light after sunset leaves slowly through these mountains where their2 family’s house

has always been.

they2 hug grief that no one could crush.

suddenly in front of their strange form that is completely quiet, a test alights.

their essence becomes calm. they2 limp down to the river.

this river’s water becomes dark in far away places.

they1 tightly trap their2 thoughts.

they look toward this direction and scream.

the birds sing like a mother who dreads.

that desperation spreads to wrap around trees.

every animal worries while they2 limp away.

like it or not, they2 travel. every animal is calling,

“where are they2 going?” they1: the villagers.

they2: the subject of the poem, a singular person. [collapse]

I’d love to post more listening exercises! Have you written something in Na’vi—even if it’s very simple!—that you’d like to record for Na’viteri? If so, please send it to me along with your recording and I’ll consider it for posting. And just to reiterate, don’t be afraid to make it concise and simple! We need listening exercises at all levels—beginning, intermediate, and advanced.

Fìvurwayri alor sì stä’nìpamìri tseyä irayo nìtxan, ma mesmuk!

stä’nìpam (n., STÄ’.nì.pam) ‘recording’

This word is a simple compound of stä’nì ‘catch’ and pam ‘sound.’ When you record something, you catch its sound and preserve it rather than letting the sound fly away. (As with other technology-related terms such as eltu lefngap, this word obviously entered the Na’vi language after the Na’vi became familiar with the Sawtute and their devices.)

stä’nìpam si (vin.) ‘to record’

Säftxulì’u atìtxurnga’ nìtxan nang! Furia tsaru nga stä’nìpam soli, irayo.

‘What a powerful speech! Thank you for recording it.’

Hayalovay!