Posts from September 2009

I’m still mulling over some good descriptions of Guinness in Irish and the one that comes first to mind, in English, doesn’t seem to exactly fit in Irish.  “Mellow” could be “méith” or “súmhar” or “maothlach” or “lánaibí.  But these could also mean “fertile,” “succulent,” mushy,” or “fully ripe/mature,” in that order, and none of those terms seem to conjure up blas pionta Guinness, at least not “i mo shamhlaíocht féin.”  Smaointe ar bith ag duine ar bith?  Any ideas, any one?  If so, please send them in as comments on the www.transparent.com/irish/ page. 

 

So I’ll look for another Irish angle on Guinness for the time being, and wait to see what suggestions you might have for describing “a pint of plain” aka “your only man” aka “cara an oibrí,” to borrow rather loosely from Flann O’Brien aka Myles na gCopaleen aka Brian O’Nolan.  OK with the aka’s, just trying to be thorough and give credit where credit is due.

 

Bhíodh Guinness “Breó” ann agus deirtear go raibh blas “citreach” air sin.  Rinneadh as cruithneacht é agus bhi torthaí agus spíosraí ann. 

 

Too bad “Breó” didn’t catch on, since it showed that the company was trying to use Irish to promote a new product.  It was discontinued in 2000.  The word “Breó” was based on the Irish word “breo” (usually without any long mark), which has a variety of meanings.  Guinness defined it as “glow,” but it can also mean “fire,” “flame,” “torch,” or “brand” (the burnable kind).  In most cases, the word “breo” is a bit on the poetic side.  There are more basic words that I would say cover the same meanings: tine (fire), lasair or bladhm (flame), tóirse (torch, flashlight), and splanc (brand).  Breo” is also used as part of the Irish word for “flint,” which is “breochloch” (lit. fire- or spark-stone). 

 

But as a product name, it was certainly tarraingteach (catchy, attractive).  I’m sure that that as a brand name, Breó’s similarity to the Italian word, brio (vigor, vivacity) was neither coincidental nor overlooked by the creators of Guinness’s advertising campaign for that brew.  In fact, though Italian, the word “brio” is believed to have Celtic roots, as are a small but interesting number of other Celtic words we know via Latin or the more modern Romance languages.  Of course, the idea of a “brew” that has both “brio” and “breo” is especially appealing, both from a marketing viewpoint and for the “blaslóga” (taste buds). 

 

An cuimhin le léitheoir ar bith “Breó?”  Ar bhlais duine ar bith agaibh “Breó?”

 

Nótaí: gearrshaolach [GYAR-HEEL-ukh, note silent “s”] short-lived; mo shamhlaíocht [muh HOW-lee-ukht] my imagination; bhíodh [VEE-ukh] used to be, used to exist; deirtear, it is said; rinneadh, was made; cruithneacht [KRIN-yukht, note: first “t” is silent], wheat; torthaí [TOR-hee] fruit; an cuimhin le X [un KIV-in le X] Does X remember; bhlais [vlash] tasted

 

Fuaimniú: méith [may], súmhar [SOO-wur], maothlach [MWEE-lukh]; bladhm [blime, that is more or less rhyming with the fruit, “lime,” the “d” being completely silent; breochloch [broh-khlukh]

Another noteworthy news event gives us the opportunity for a velvety smooth vocabulary lesson.  Yesterday (an ceathrú lá is fiche de mhí Mheán Fómhair) was the 250th anniversary of Grúdlann Mhic Aonghusa.  At least that’s what the name would be in Irish, though there doesn’t seem to be too much precedence for its use.  Although Guinness does (or did) sell some Irish language merchandise, most notably “t-léinte,” I just checked and don’t see the t-shirts on Guinness’s current webstore.  They do seem to be for sale elsewhere online.  Does that mean my t-léine has become an “earra inbhailithe” (collector’s item)?  The t-shirt doesn’t actually translate the surname Guinness though – that remains as is, i litreacha móra feiceálacha soléite (in large conspicuous easily readable letters).  

 

Google gives me a total of five hits that actually use the phrase “Grúdlann Mhic Aonghusa.”  Modernizing the spelling of the surname to “Grúdlann Mhic Aonasa” gives no hits.    

 

Searching for “Grúdlann Guinness,” which would probably be the most practical way to look for discussions of the Guinness brewery in Irish, gives a grand total of six hits also. 

 

Back to the sloinne (surname), at any rate.

 

Mhic Aonghusa  or Mhic Aonasa [vik AYN-uss-uh], of the son of Aongus (Angus).  This sounds pretty much the same, whichever way you spell it.  The older spelling obviously shows the connection to Aongus more clearly, but like a lot of lenited consonant sounds in Irish (here “gh”), it’s basically been softened into no sound at all, as shown by the modern spelling.   This is the possessive form of the surname, so “mhic” is used instead of “mac.”

 

Fuaimniú:

lá breithe sona duit (or “dhuit”) [law BREH-heh SUN-uh ditch, OR γitch (hitch, if the vocal cord vibration of γ escapes you).  Please note that while this phrase with the word “sona” lenited to “shona” as been creeping around the Internet virally for at least about 10 years now, there is no reason for lenition here.  This has probably crept in, by analogy, to “Nollaig Shona” (Happy, or Merry, Christmas).  Since “Nollaig” is feminine, grammatically, the adjective modifying it (sona) does take lenition.  Since “lá breithe” is masculine, the adjective modifying it (sona) stays as “sona.” 

 

feiceálacha [fek-yawl-ukh-uh], plural of feiceálach [fek-yawl-ukh].  If you notice anything a bit jumpy about the sound of that word, well, I’d say that’s up to your “samhlaíocht” (imagination).  The basic meaning of “feic” in Irish is “see.” 

 

Hmmm, we’re out of space and the aspect of this blog that’s so dubhveilbhiteach will have to wait until an chéad bhlag eile.

So you’ve probably been diligently stretching and touching your toes, singing, “Ceann, Gualainn, Glúin is Cos” and wondering what comes next.  Well, maybe you’d already figured it out, but, ar eagla na heagla (just in case):

 

“súile, cluasa, béal is srón”

 

Here’s a little more detail on some of the words:

 

súil, an eye; an tsúil [say: un TOO-il, the “s” is silent], the eye; na súile, the eyes

 

cluas, an ear; an chluas [say: un KHLOO-uss],  the ear; na cluasa, the ears

 

béal, a mouth; an béal, the mouth; na béil, the mouths

 

srón, a nose; an tsrón [say: un trohn, silent “s”], the nose; na sróna, the noses

 

And how about a few idioms for these?

 

1. Tá súil agam go bhfuil sé anseo.  I hope he’s here.  (“súil” can also mean “hope”)

 

2. Bíonn cluasa ar na claíocha.  Walls have ears

 

3. Dún do bhéal!  Shut up!  (Shut your mouth!) aka “Dún do ghob” agus “Dún do chlab!”

 

4. Bhain sé an tsrón díom, He bit my nose off.

 

Note: “claí” usually means a stone wall or fence, or a dike; the most basic word for a walls is “ballai.”

But if we said “ar na ballaí,” this seanfhocal wouldn’t be (pick the best answer and see below):

 

1) ciallmhar              2) uamach                3) ardteicniúil                       d) sean

 

Hopefully these last couple of blaganna helped burned a few calraí, as long as you were ag síneadh do mhéir i dtreo an chinn, na gualainne, na glúine, srl., agus ag cromadh anuas (pointing your finger to the head, the shoulder, the knee, etc., and stooping down), and as the tachráin always enjoy, doing it go gasta agus níos goiste arís (fast and still faster). 

 

Freagra: Which did you pick?  ciallmhar, sensible; uamach, alliterative; ardteicniúil, high-tech, or sean, old

 

An Freagra Ceart: uamach (from uaim, alliteration)

Some of you may already have been singing this, especially if you have a tachrán (toddler) in the house.  Perhaps you know the song as “Cabeza, hombros, rodillas y pies”?  Yes, sometimes “rodillas” is sung as “piernas” and theoretically we should have, dedos de pies, but apparently Spanish pre-school teachers have already decided that phrase doesn’t fit the song’s rhythm.  B’fhéidir go bhfuil an leagan Fraincise agat?  That’s  “Tête, épaules, genoux, et pied (or orteils).”

 

At any rate, bypassing the “head,” which has been fairly thoroughly covered in recent blaganna, here’s a little more detail on these parts of the body:

 

gualainn, shoulder, an ghualainn, the shoulder

glúin, knee, an ghlúin, the knee

 

cos, foot, an chos, the foot

 

Actually, I think “guala” (plural) and “glúnta” (plural) would have been perfectly singable, but I do agree that “ladhracha” or “méara coise” for “toes” would have been a mouthful.  Even “cosa” (plural) would have been a bit awkward rhythmically.  So once it was determined that “cos” (singular) was best for replacing “toes,” it makes sense for “knee” and “shoulder” to also be singular. 

 

And if anyone wants the “eyes” and “ears” line, that will be “i mblag éigin eile.

 

Does anyone know versions of this song in any other languages?  I found this online for Japanese, but can’t vouch for it.  Any comments from na daoine a bhfuil Seapáinis agus Gaeilge acu (from those who know/have Japanese and Irish)?

 

atama kata hiza ashi

Smaointe ar bith ag duine ar bith?  Thoughts, anyone?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Well, as promised, today’s blog has a pedal theme, hopefully not too pedantic and at least as entertaining as it is  pedagogic. 

 

Let’s start with the actual word for toe.  Oops, not so fast. the actual words for toe (I think I’ll christen this the TMTM premise in vocabulary – the more, the merrier, except sometimes in the first few months of study!) 

 

1)     méar coise, plural: méara coise, which literally means “finger(s) of the foot”

 

2)     ladhar, plural: ladhracha, toe, or for good measure, the space between the toes.

 

3)     barraicín, plural: barraicíní, is really the tip of the toe, and is used for the expression “ag siúl ar bharraicíní na gcos” (walking on tiptoe).  It’s also used for the “toe” of a golf club.

 

But a toe clip, for cycling, is different again:

fáiscín (fastener) bairbín (toe, toe-cap, barbule)

 

You might have noticed the words “coise” and “na gcos” used in two of these phrases.  These both come from “cos” (foot). 

 

Cos” can be used in various compound words and phrases.  In place names, we have

 

Coiscéim na Caillí, which literally means, “the footstep of the hag.”  This place name is anglicized phonetically though, as Kishkeam.  Céim” actually means “step,” but it can also mean “degree” or “rank,” so adding “cois” makes it clear we’re talking about footsteps. Why the change from “cos” to “cois”?  So the ending of “cos” would become slender, by adding the slender vowel “i,” and therefore match the slender quality of the root word, céim.  Remember, Irish has vowel harmony, and an “e” or “i” on one side of consonant is almost always matched by an “e” or “i” on the other side of that consonant.  The two slender vowels are “e” and “i” and they are not considered to “harmonize” with the three broad vowels, “a,” “o,” and “u.”

 

Cois Fharraige is actually a place name starting with a noun (cos) that here functions as a preposition (cois), meaning “at the foot of.”  Farraige” is simply the word for “sea.”  Other similar phrases that don’t really use the word “at” but imply it are “cois na tine” (by the fire, at the foot of the fire) and “cois cnoic” (at the foot of a hill). 

 

And finally, and just le haghaidh an chraic really, we have Ceann Tuaithe, a headland in Co. Cork.  But “toe” and behold, (och, groan, another imeartas focal uafásach), this place name has nothing to do with toes or feet.  Tuaithe” comes from “tuath,” which means “tribe,” “country,” “territory,” or “rural district.”  But this is a typical example of how many Irish place names were semi-transliterated when they were adapted to English.  In other words, if the original Irish word sounded roughly like “toe” to an English-speaking cartographer, it would become “toe,” regardless of what the Irish means.  The standard pronunciation of “tuaithe” is more like “TOO-ih-huh” but one can sort of see how someone could hear it as “toe.” 

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