{"id":9668,"date":"2017-09-23T10:14:41","date_gmt":"2017-09-23T10:14:41","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/irish\/?p=9668"},"modified":"2017-11-17T21:47:42","modified_gmt":"2017-11-17T21:47:42","slug":"how-to-say-rat-in-irish-and-a-preliminary-glossary-for-reading-an-piobaire-breac-an-t-aistriuchan-le-sean-o-durois-cuid-1-as-4","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/irish\/how-to-say-rat-in-irish-and-a-preliminary-glossary-for-reading-an-piobaire-breac-an-t-aistriuchan-le-sean-o-durois-cuid-1-as-4\/","title":{"rendered":"How to say ‘rat’ in Irish and a preliminary glossary for reading ‘An P\u00edobaire Breac’ (an t-aistri\u00fach\u00e1n le Se\u00e1n \u00d3 D\u00farois) (Cuid 1 as 4)"},"content":{"rendered":"

(le R\u00f3isl\u00edn)<\/strong>\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

In today’s post, we’ll look at one of my favorite translations into Irish, Se\u00e1n \u00d3 D\u00farois’s version of Robert Browning’s “The Pied Piper of Hamelin.”\u00a0 The two words that intrigue me the most are “francach<\/strong>” and “luch mh\u00f3r<\/strong>,” both of which mean “rat.”\u00a0 But they each have at least one other potential meaning, well, at least they both\u00a0do if capitalization isn’t an issue (and that seems to be on the wane these days, given the predominance of text messaging, and less formal writing in general).<\/p>\n

Why do I like this translation so much?\u00a0 It has such a rollicking rhythm and rhyme scheme, it just keeps rolling along and it’s really fun for a class to read out loud, either stanza by stanza or rhymed couplet by rhymed couplet.\u00a0 BTW, the rest of the book is delightful also, with fun poems about such topics as animals (“An Crogall,” “An Z\u00fa,” m. sh<\/strong>.), word play with sounds (“Mionbheithigh,” “An Taibhse Cait,” m. sh.<\/strong>), and a nice seasonal piece for Christmas, “An Ch\u00e9ad Chrann Nollag<\/strong>.”<\/p>\n

Anyway, back to “An P\u00edobaire Breac<\/strong>.”\u00a0 First, a quick look at the poem’s title, then we’ll check out the “rat” vocab, and it there’s still space, a few more not-quite-so-common words.<\/p>\n

For newcomers to Irish, the word order is “article (“the”) + noun + adjective,” which is the typical sequence for noun phrases in Irish. The word “an<\/strong>,” somewhat confusingly from an English speaker’s viewpoint, means “the.”\u00a0 But remember, it’s pronounced like “un” (rhyming with\u00a0“sun” and “fun”),\u00a0not like the English “an” (which rhymes with “pan” and “tan”).<\/p>\n

“P\u00edobaire<\/strong>” is pretty straightforward, meaning “piper,” and based on the Irish “p\u00edb<\/strong>” a musical pipe or bagpipe.\u00a0 There are at least two different, if slightly related words for “pipe” in Irish, “p\u00edopa<\/strong>” for water, gas, or smoking, and “p\u00edob\u00e1n<\/strong>,” another choice for water or gas pipes (but not for smoking); neither is used for bagpipes.<\/p>\n

We probably don’t translate “breac<\/strong>” as “pied” all that often, but then,\u00a0how often do we use “pied” in modern, everyday English?\u00a0 Remember, Browning’s version was published in 1842.\u00a0 If he were retelling the legend today, who knows what word choice he would use.\u00a0 “Multi-colored” — too many syllables and not alliterative.\u00a0 “Parti-colored” — also too long.\u00a0\u00a0Words like “dappled,” “brindle,”\u00a0“skewball,” and “pinto,” are all fun, but are mostly used for animals.\u00a0 “Spotted” and “mottled” might sound more like they’re describing the piper’s skin rather than his clothing.<\/p>\n

Getting back to our actual Irish word, “breac<\/strong>,” it’s usually translated as “speckled,” and in the modern Irish context, probably shows up the most frequently in the term “Breac-Ghaeltacht<\/strong>” (a “speckled” or partial Gaeltacht).\u00a0 “Breac<\/strong>” has a number of other translations, including many of the synonyms for “pied” listed above, but it also delves into other linguistic territory as this list of some\u00a0its meanings\u00a0shows: dappled, variegated, patchwork, spotted, and dotted or studded (which can also be “breactha<\/strong>“),\u00a0and then we diverge with meanings like “indifferent,”\u00a0“middling,” and “not very good.”\u00a0\u00a0We come a bit full circle with “snag breac<\/strong>” for “magpie” and, of course, “breac<\/strong>,” as a noun is well known as the Irish for “trout,” a fish which is typically\u00a0“speckled” in appearance.<\/p>\n

And, btw, there are a few other interesting choices for “pied” as well: alabhreac, ildathach<\/strong> (closest to “multi-colored”), and riabhach<\/strong> (which can also mean “striped”).\u00a0 As for some reasonably well-known animals whose names have “pied” in English, we have a connection with “alabhreac<\/strong>” for the pied flycatcher (cuilire alabhreac<\/strong>).\u00a0 But for the pied wagtail, there is\u00a0 a completely different\u00a0approach, with the term “glas\u00f3g shr\u00e1ide<\/strong>,” which fairly literally translates to\u00a0“little green one of the street”)\u00a0— so I guess I’ll have to check out the coloration for the genus “Motacilla<\/em>” for some future post.<\/p>\n

The title of the\u00a0original German version doesn’t emphasize the “pied-ness,” simply being “Rattenf\u00e4nger von Hameln.”\u00a0 <\/i>The story has been retold so many times, though, that a full study of the terms for the “francaire<\/strong>” (rat-catcher) or “luchaire<\/strong>” (rat-catcher or mouse-catcher!)\u00a0of Hamelin would be a project for a long rainy day.\u00a0 At any rate, I would say that “pied piper” has a more appealing ring than simply calling the fellow a “rat-catcher.”\u00a0 Which aspect of his “skill sets” is most important — his musicianship or his ability as an exterminator?\u00a0 I’m happy to go with the musical side!\u00a0 <\/span><\/p>\n

So, now, the Irish for “rats.”\u00a0 There are two main approaches:<\/p>\n

a) francach<\/strong>, a rat, which, if capitalized (Francach<\/strong>), would mean “a Frenchman;” the same word can be used as an adjective, with “luch<\/strong>,” giving us “luch fhrancach<\/strong>” (a rat).<\/p>\n

b) luch mh\u00f3r<\/strong>, and its variation,\u00a0luch\u00f3g mh\u00f3r<\/strong>, both of which literally mean “big mouse.”\u00a0 So, I’m left with the quandary, what to call Reepicheep and Peepiceek, the very large talking mice of C. S. Lewis’s Narnia.\u00a0 If we call them “lucha m\u00f3ra<\/strong>” or “luch\u00f3ga m\u00f3ra<\/strong>,” would they be mistaken for rats?\u00a0 Or could we say “oll-luch<\/strong>” or “oll-luch\u00f3g<\/strong>“?\u00a0 But the “oll-“<\/strong> phrases\u00a0would really mean “great \/ huge \/ immense” mouse, and with Reepicheep and company, we’re talking about knee-high-ish, not “Them!-ish” or “The Killer Shrews-ish,” i.e. human-size or larger.\u00a0 Hopefully, the answer is in the offing, when we get the Irish translation of Prince Caspian<\/em> in “the Chronicles of Narnia” series.\u00a0 Reepicheep first appears in Chapter 6.\u00a0 Unfortunately, this character is not in\u00a0The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe<\/em>\u00a0(An\u00a0 Leon, an Bandraoi, agus an Prios \u00c9adaigh, 2014<\/em>), the only Narnia volume to appear in Irish so far, so I can’t see what the translator has decided for this term.\u00a0 I’ll try to remember to check it out when “An Prionsa Caspian” (the presumed title), appears and do another post on rats vs. mice in Irish and in translations.<\/p>\n

At any rate, \u00d3 D\u00farois uses both “francach<\/strong>” and “luch mh\u00f3r<\/strong>”\u00a0early on in his translation “Cad \u00e9 a bh\u00ed cearr?\u00a0 C\u00e1 raibh an locht? \/ Is furasta a r\u00e1! Na lucha m\u00f3ra \/ a ba ch\u00fais le caoineadh agus deora<\/strong> …” and later in the same stanza, “… mar bh\u00ed francaigh ann ag scrios na h\u00e1ite<\/strong>.”\u00a0 Actually, from a poet’s perspective, it’s great to have two words to choose from (synonyms rule, anyway!) since the best one for the rhyme and meter can be picked.\u00a0 As the translation progresses, though, \u00d3 D\u00farois\u00a0seems to favor “francach<\/strong>,” or its plural, “francaigh<\/strong>,” which appear throughout.\u00a0 He doesn’t use “luch\u00f3g mh\u00f3r<\/strong>,” which has always seemed to me more like “big mouse” than\u00a0“rat.”\u00a0 “Luch\u00a0mh\u00f3r<\/strong>” seems more like “rat” to me, perhaps because the “-\u00f3g<\/strong>” ending of “luch\u00f3g<\/strong>” is already somewhat diminutive and therefore sounds smaller, more like a mouse.<\/p>\n

I don’t have much more space in today’s post, but here’s a dorn\u00e1n<\/strong> of other interesting words from the poem:<\/p>\n

Stanza 2: pl\u00e1<\/strong>, plague; cr\u00e1<\/strong>, torment<\/p>\n

Stanza 4: scoilt<\/strong>, crack, split<\/p>\n

Stanza 5: beada\u00ed<\/strong>, dainty, fussy, epicurean (as a noun: foodie, food-lover, epicure)<\/p>\n

Stanza 7: ag b\u00e1rcadh allais<\/strong>, sweating heavily, streaming with perspiration, or in the English idiom, “sweating bullets”<\/p>\n

Stanza 8: laiste<\/strong>, latch (of a door); gr\u00e9agach<\/strong>, bright, splendid, beautiful, or (intriguingly), garish or gaudy (in upper case, Gr\u00e9agach<\/strong>, it does mean “Greek”)<\/p>\n

Well, that’s about enough for one post, so it looks like doing the poem justice will take blagmh\u00edr amh\u00e1in eile.\u00a0 Go dt\u00ed sin, SGF\u00a0 – R\u00f3isl\u00edn<\/strong><\/p>\n

Eolas foilseach\u00e1in<\/strong>: \u00d3 D\u00farois, Se\u00e1n.\u00a0 An P\u00edobaire Breac agus d\u00e1nta eile do ph\u00e1ist\u00ed<\/em>.\u00a0 Binn \u00c9adair, Baile \u00c1tha Cliath, 2004.\u00a0 Gan ISBN sa ch\u00f3ip at\u00e1 agamsa.\u00a0 I measc \u00e1iteanna eile t\u00e1 an leabhar ar f\u00e1il \u00f3\u00a0https:\/\/www.cic.ie\/books\/published-books\/an-piobaire-breac-danta-eile-do-phaisti-leabhair-cloite\u00a0agus\u00a0 https:\/\/www.litriocht.com\/product\/an-piobaire-breac-agus-danta-eile-do-phaisti\/<\/a>\u00a0agus\u00a0http:\/\/www.coisceim.ie\/2004.html<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"\"\"

(le R\u00f3isl\u00edn) In today’s post, we’ll look at one of my favorite translations into Irish, Se\u00e1n \u00d3 D\u00farois’s version of Robert Browning’s “The Pied Piper of Hamelin.”\u00a0 The two words that intrigue me the most are “francach” and “luch mh\u00f3r,” both of which mean “rat.”\u00a0 But they each have at least one other potential meaning…<\/p>\n

Continue Reading<\/a><\/p>","protected":false},"author":36,"featured_media":9669,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"content-type":""},"categories":[3898],"tags":[376517,489867,489858,489855,489857,489865,5240,489808,489805,489806,489868,307078,307082,460675,489870,309652,489869,309639,508626,489872,303089,489809,489856,489864,489853,489804,489860,255468,489854,302977,489807,228890,2503,489859,390604,489862,376518,489866,489871,489863],"class_list":["post-9668","post","type-post","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-irish-language","tag-breac","tag-breactha","tag-brindle","tag-browining","tag-dappled","tag-dotted","tag-francach","tag-francaire","tag-hamelin","tag-hameln","tag-indifferent","tag-luch","tag-luchaire","tag-luchog","tag-magpie","tag-mhor","tag-middling","tag-mora","tag-mottled","tag-mouse-catcher","tag-multi-colored","tag-o-durois","tag-parti-colored","tag-patchwork","tag-pib","tag-pied-piper","tag-pinto","tag-piobaire","tag-pioban","tag-piopa","tag-rat-catcher","tag-robert","tag-sean","tag-skewball","tag-snag","tag-speckled","tag-spotted","tag-studded","tag-trout","tag-variegated"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/irish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9668","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/irish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/irish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/irish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/36"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/irish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=9668"}],"version-history":[{"count":20,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/irish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9668\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9830,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/irish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9668\/revisions\/9830"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/irish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/9669"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/irish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9668"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/irish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9668"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.transparent.com\/irish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9668"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}