International / Multilingual > Français (French)

{Apprentissage} Le blog de Paul Frommer est en ligne...

<< < (2/7) > >>

Pas mal de nouvelles infos, je vais traduire le peu que j'ai compris, je mets en spoiler pour éviter de prendre trop de place :


Spoiler: Suffixe -tsyìp, Forme diminutiveBeaucoup de langues possèdent des moyens d'ajouter des affixes pour créer une forme "petite" du mot original. Le Na’vi aussi.

Le marqueur diminutif est –tsyìp. c'est un suffixe, que vous attachez à la fin du mot—normalement un nom, mais les pronoms aussi peuvent utiliser –tsyìp (Ce qui est inutile dans les langues Terriennes.)

N'utilisez pas le diminutif uniquement pour signaler que quelque chose est petit—pour cela on utilise hì’i. Par exemple, “petit arbre” est hì’ia utral/utral ahì’i, pas utraltsyìp.  Qu'est donc la forme diminutive ? Trois choses :

1. Créer un nouveau lexique avec le diminutif.

puk : livre
puktsyìp : livret, carnet

utral : arbre
utraltsyìp  : arbuste/buisson

säspxin : mal, maladie
säspxintsyìp : infection

Notez qu'il est possible de modifier nombre de ces mots grâce à tsawl. Par exemple :
tsawla utraltsyìp : grand buisson

2. Exprimer l'affection.

Za’u fìtseng, ma ’itetsyìp. ‘Viens, ma petite (fille).’ (Peut être utilisé pour un enfant à l'âge adulte.)

[Digression: With verbs of motion, ne can be optionally omitted if the destination comes after the verb. So you can say Po zola’u fìtsengne or Po zola’u fìtseng. But *Po fìtseng zola’u is ungrammatical; it has to be Po fìtsengne (or ne fìtseng) zola’u.]

Kempe si nga, ma sa’nutsyìp ? ‘Que fais-tu, ma petite maman (môman) ?’ (This would not be said to an actual mother, which would be disrespectful, but rather to a young girl, in endearing anticipation of her becoming a mother.)

Kamtsyìpìl wutsot yerom. ‘Petit Kamun vient de manger.’ (Kamun peut être un jeune garçon, mais peut être un adulte et le terme est utilisable comme étant affectif dans ce cas-là.)

Ngatsyìp yawne lu oer. ‘Je t'aime, mon (ma) petit(e).’ (Utilisable pour tout être aimé, par que pour les jeunes enfants.)

Ngari tswintsyìp sevin nìtxan lu nang ! ‘What a pretty little queue you have!’ (tswin ‘queue.’ Note that in sentences like this that involve possession, especially “inalienable possession, the –ri form (i.e. the topic marker) is slightly more idiomatic than the possessive pronoun, although both are correct. So “Ngeyä tswintsyìp . . .” is fine, although many Na’vi would prefer to say “Ngari . . .”)

3. Exprimer le désagrément ou insulter.

Fìtaronyutsyìp ke tsun ke’ut stivä’nì. ‘Ce (worthless) petit chasseur ne peux rien attraper.’

Ngatsyìpìl new peut ta oe ? ‘Que me veux-tu, petit(e) ?’ (Note that while ngatsyìp was endearing in the previous example, here it’s disparaging. To tell which is which, you need to consider the context, facial expressions, and body language.)

Nga nìawnomum to oetsyìp lu txur nìtxan. ‘Comme nous le savons tous, tu es aussi fort que je suis petit.’ (Ici –tsyìp est utilisé ironiquement, comme de l'auto-dérision. Nota Bene : oetsyìp et prononcé WE.tsyìp.)

Be careful not to confuse –vi and –tsyìp: there are similarities, but they’re not the same. Rather than indicating a small version of the original, the –vi suffix is used for a part or division of a whole, or a “little bit of” something. So atanvi ‘ray’ is a bit of atan, light; txepvi ‘spark’ is a bit of txep ‘fire’ (txeptsyìp would possibly be a ‘dear or cute little fire’); lì’fyavi ‘linguistic expression (word, phrase, sentence)’ is a bit of lì’fya ‘language.’ Also, -vi is not as freely productive as –tsyìp. This is worth some explanation.

Take the English suffix –er that’s added to verbs to get the “agent”—the one who is doing the verb: eater=one who eats, hunter=one who hunts, etc. You can add –er to most verbs, and you’ll get another word whose meaning is predictable. So even if you don’t know what it means to burble, you do know that that a burbler is one who burbles. (This doesn’t always work: people who type or cycle are better called typists and cyclists than typers and cyclers. But it works more often than not.) We say that the –er suffix is productive.

In contrast, adding the suffix –ment to a verb to get a related noun is not freely productive. From govern we get government, which is a body that governs. From replace we get replacement, but that’s not a body that replaces—it’s the thing replaced. And there’s no *eatment, *huntment, *feelment, etc. (I’m not sure about burblement.) So the  –ment suffix is not productive: we can’t add it freely to verbs, and when we can, the meaning isn’t necessarily clear. Words with –ment have to be learned individually, and so they’re listed in the dictionary.

Similar things are true in Na’vi. Certain affixes (prefixes, infixes, and suffixes) are productive, others not. For example, almost all the verb infixes (-er-, -ol-, -iv-, -ay-, -ìm-, etc.) are productive: you can use them with any verb at all, as long as you know the right place to insert them. The agentive suffix –yu is also freely productive. On the other hand, the prefix tì-, which forms nouns out of verbs, adjectives, and other nouns, is not freely productive. You can’t come up with your own tì- words—you need to make sure they’re in the dictionary. And when they are, the meanings won’t always be predictable: tìftang means ‘stopping,’ but tìrol doesn’t mean ‘singing’ but rather ‘song.’ (Note that when you want to talk about an action—as in “Swimming is great exercise”—you can always use the Na’vi gerund, which is a two-affix form: use the tì- prefix along with the –us- infix: tìyusom ‘eating,’ tìtusaron ‘hunting,’ etc., and that process is productive. Example: Tìkusar eltur tìtxen si. ‘Teaching is interesting.’)

Finally, some affixes are midway on the productivity scale. The adverb-former nì- is productive when used with adjectives: nìngay ‘truly,’ nìwin ‘fast,’ nìsti ‘angrily,’ nìftue ‘easily,’ etc. But it’s sometimes also used with other parts of speech—nìtut ‘continually,’ nì’eyng ‘in response,’ nì’awtu ‘alone’—and these words have to be learned as separate lexical items; you can’t take them as patterns on which to base new forms.

And with that I’ll just say: Sìlpey oe, ayngari fìtìpängkxotsyìp eltur tìtxen silvi.
Spoiler: Répondre : quelques expressionsHere are some miscellaneous expressions you might find useful in conversation.

1. Répondre à un remerciement.

Depending on the situation, there are different ways to respond to someone who thanks you for something:

    * Kea tìkin. Littéralement : Pas besoin. Pas besoin de me remercier, c'était naturel.
    * Nìprrte’. Littéralement : Avec plaisir. Inutile de me remercier, ça me fait plaisir.
    * Oeru meuia. Littéralement : Un honneur pour moi. Ce fut un honneur de t'aider.
    * Hayalo ta oe/Hayalo oeta [prononcé WE.ta]. Littéralement : Prochaine fois pour moi. J'ai fait quelque chose pour toi et tu m'en remercies, mis la prochaine fois c'est toi qui fera quelque chose pour moi et je t'en remercierais. (hayalo ‘prochaine fois,’ hamalo ‘dernière fois’)
    * Pum ngeyä. Littéralement : Votre. Tu me remercies, mais je n'en avais pas besoin. Merci à toi aussi. [Prononcé pum NGE.yä]

2. Répondre à un compliment.

    * Ke pxan. Littéralement : Pas digne. Merci mais je n'avais pas besoin d'être complimenté.
    * Tstunwi. Littéralement : kind. That is, it’s kind of you to say that. (tstunwi ‘kind, thoughtful, considerate’)
    * Ngaru tsulfä. Littéralement : À toi la maîtrise. This is said in a situation where the one praising you is better at the activity you’re being praised for than you are yourself. For example, if a native Pandoran says to you, Nga nìNa’vi plltxe nìltsan, you should respond with Ngaru tsulfä, which implies: When it comes to Na’vi, you’re obviously the master, so you have the right to give me praise, which I humbly accept.

3. Féliciter quelqu'un.

Upon hearing about someone’s good fortune, the Na’vi say Seykxel sì nitram! Literally: Strong and happy! That is, may you derive strength and happiness from this event, accomplishment, etc. Note: seykxel and txur are both adjectives meaning ‘strong,’ but they aren’t the same: txur refers to physical strength, seykxel to inner strength, a quiet feeling of confidence in one’s own capability. [Pronunciation: sey.KXEL sì nit.RAM]
Spoiler: LénitionTwo ambiguous structures in Na’vi

With that behind us, let’s turn to two structures in Na’vi with the potential for troublesome ambiguity.
1.       Pre-Nominal Lenition-Triggering Adpositions and Short Plurals
Don’t worry—this is less complicated than the heading makes it sound.
As you know, the plural prefix, ay-, triggers lenition, the phonological process that changes px to p, p to f, t to s, etc., in nouns beginning with a consonant that can undergo the process. (To avoid that awkward wording, I’ll use “lenitable” for these consonants, even though I’m not sure it’s a real word. The rule then becomes: The plural prefix triggers lenition in nouns that begin with lenitable consonants.)

Example: rivière = kilvan, rivières = ayhilvan

Vous connaissez aussi les “pluriels diminués”  : rivières = simplement hilvan.
Apprenez que certaines appositions, telles que : fpi, ìlä, mì, ro, sre, et wä, font subir une lénition quand ils sont placés en tant que prénominaux, devant un nom.

Exemple : dans la rivière = mì hilvan

Vous voyez où nous en arrivons. comment dire “dans les rivières” ?
If you use the full plural there’s no problem: mì ayhilvan (Note: Although the writing doesn’t change, the mì + ay- combination is pronounced may. So mì ayhilvan is pronounced as if it were mayhilvan. Other examples of this process: nìayoeng ‘like us, as we do’ is pronounced nayweng; aynantang sì ayriti ‘viperwolves and stingbats’ is pronounced aynantang sayriti.)
But if you use the short plural you’re back to mì hilvan, which is now seen to be ambiguous: it can mean either ‘in the river’ or ‘in the rivers.’
Is this a problem? Not always. As we’ve seen above, the context will often make the meaning clear. If someone told you he saw Neytiri swimming mì hilvan, chances are she was swimming in only one river at a time. By the same token, if someone said Lu fayoang alor mì hilvan Eywa’evengä, hilvan is almost certainly plural, since Pandora presumably has more than one river. (That’s an assumption, although I hope a plausible one. Apparently we’ll all find out a lot more about Pandoran bodies of water in Avatar 2!) But if you were told that Neytiri likes to swim mì hilvan a lok Kelutral, and you didn’t know if there was more than one river close to Hometree, you might not interpret the message correctly.
In cases like these, speakers rely on a convention:
RULE FOR PLURALS AFTER ADP+: If there is the potential for misunderstanding and the plural is intended, the full plural form is used. The lenited form without ay- is interpreted by default as singular.

2.       Comparison of adjectives with to
This one is trickier.
As you know, comparison of adjectives in Na’vi is simple: There’s no “comparative degree” of the adjective as there is in English (old vs. older, good vs. better). You simply use the adjective in its root form along with the word to, which corresponds to ‘than’:
(1)    Po to oe lu koak. ‘She is older than I (am).’
What kind of word is to? At first glance it looks like an adposition, just as ‘than’ in English looks to many people like a preposition. In fact, however, ‘than’ is classified as a conjunction. (If it were a bona fide preposition, then “She is older than me” wouldn’t raise an eyebrow, whereas it’s often considered substandard or at best only for informal contexts.) In my personal lexicon, I’ve classified to as PIV—that is, a pivot. (In “A is ADJ-er than B” constructions, B is the “standard of comparison” and ‘than’ is the “pivot.”)
In any event, the question for us here is whether to behaves like an adposition, and the answer is yes: You can put it either before or after the noun it’s connected to. In other words, ‘than I’ is either to oe or oeto, just like ‘with me’ is either hu oe or oehu.
But that means that a sentence like (2) is well formed:
(2)    Poto oe lu koak. ‘I am older than she (is).’
Now when Na’vi is written, there’s a difference between (1) and (2), even if it’s a small one, which means there’s no ambiguity. But what about the spoken language? (Keep in mind that writing was introduced to the Na’vi by the Sawtute; it was a spoken-only language long, long before that.) If (1) and (2) sound precisely the same, then we could really be in trouble, since they say opposite things.
There are two ways out of the dilemma. One is to make sure that if you use structures like (1) and (2), you convey your intended “bracketing” ( po [to oe] vs. [po to] oe) with your voice, through rhythm and intonation. This is, in fact, a natural thing to do. In slow, deliberate speech it’s quite simple. Here are my attempts to distinguish the two in reasonably fast speech. See if you think the difference is clear:

    * Po to oe lu koak.
    * Poto oe lu koak.

The other way out is simply to avoid word orders like (1) and (2) in situations where there’s a danger of misunderstanding. The following sentences don’t have the potential for ambiguity that (1) and (2) do:
(3)    Poto lu oe koak.
(4)    Po lu to oe koak.
(5)    Oe lu poto koak.
(6)    Oe lu to po koak.
And many more . . .
Irayo to kwami/roger for passing along this question from Wikibooks and to Prrton for a lucid private discussion.
I just discovered that the number of posts to the fora of has passed a quarter of a million. Tewti! Wou!!

Fpi Xelloss.

PS pour Xelloss : je l'ai bien reçu, mon colis. Irayo

Kaltxì ma Gaïal' !

Ulte ngengaru seiyi irayo !
Zene tìkangem sivi oe set nang !
SpoilerUlte ngenga-ru s-eiy-i irayo !
Zene tìkangem s-iv-i oe set nang !
SpoilerHop, au taf !
SpoilerCeci est une interro' surprise  ;D

Comme toujours, pour ceux qui débutent :
SpoilerEt te remercie !
Je vais devoir bosser maintenant !

Eywa ayngahu

=> Ps
J'essaye de continuer la mise à jour du Na'viri lì'fya, mais comme je passe mon temps à aider Rambo et Scorpy' dans leurs travaux, ça n'avance pas des masses...  ;D
Heureusement que je ne dois pas tenir de délais  :D

-> Donc la prochaine version du Na'viri lì'fya... ce sera du lourd, Michel...
Du très très lourd...  ;)


--- Quote from: xelloss on July 26, 2010, 07:09:07 pm ---Kaltxì ma Gaïal' !

Ulte ngengaru seiyi irayo !
Zene tìkangem sivi oe set nang !
SpoilerUlte ngenga-ru s-eiy-i irayo !
Zene tìkangem s-iv-i oe set nang !
SpoilerHop, au taf !
SpoilerCeci est une interro' surprise  ;D

Comme toujours, pour ceux qui débutent :
SpoilerEt te remercie !
Je vais devoir bosser maintenant !

Eywa ayngahu

=> Ps
J'essaye de continuer la mise à jour du Na'viri lì'fya, mais comme je passe mon temps à aider Rambo et Scorpy' dans leurs travaux, ça n'avance pas des masses...  ;D
Heureusement que je ne dois pas tenir de délais  :D

-> Donc la prochaine version du Na'viri lì'fya... ce sera du lourd, Michel...
Du très très lourd...  ;)

--- End quote ---

Nìprrte' ma Xelloss.
SpoilerMais de rien, cher Xelloss.

Du très très très lourd, je le sens aussi. On sera patients, promis !

hufwe som:
on sera patients.... mais pas trop....  ::) ;D

la patience a été récompenssée


[0] Message Index

[#] Next page

[*] Previous page

Go to full version