Conlang Relay 12/Mærik

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This is the Mærik torch of Conlang Relay 12.

For grammar and vocabulary see the Mærik page.


Bræmte skonn: Helik!

Br. vrtullann: pryydh, tws, saklack pryydh! Vro offsaw taadh mandrom klædd lukth! Olta jngum tonkum bodhom røwann.

Br. skonn: Helik!

Br. lukann: Vro offuaw taadh vrt, øll fere ordhum wisum.

Br. skonn: Fann berdhær!

Br. wanann: Fann røwe?

Br. vrtullann: Ganz vint tonum. saklack pryydh tws, saklack pryydh!

Br. skonn: Helik!

Br. lukann: giaaw vro fryydd fors. Ay! Losprow forortz færliwth swadd!

Br. wanann: Edd offua leeks!

Br. lukann: Jæ lijt, rik wællk. Ferew luk tonk. Ganta trøør fund wællg øll mistian wælld Konusch, farkt fere edd aldant døtt.

Br. wanann: Ferso sønc orz øll rensma aldanth bioordh. Fann leka lukann?

Br. vrtullann: Offaw vro mat aldkth fæærnd.

Br. lukann: Barwan, fermaw bodhom wællkum situm sachtws. Ferma bætum wællx liwnt sær, bæt fermaw mistiat Petær. Bæt fundow renz, vintull tonk, tiællum ganta sidh wællg renz siæn haar dronk!

Br. skonn: Hey Petær, gær ton vik høghliom tytzskum!

Br. lukann: Ganta rena wællg førnum entinum apnhusk...

Br. skonn: Helik!

Bidhalma trænnum jngstum bidhlull fryy: "LEKA HAFRULL! EDD ALT PÆMP!"


The man says: Persist!

The healer says: Press out, lady, you must press out! Now I can see the child's head already! You are almost through with the event.

The man says: Persist!

The child says: Now I can see well, what place this is.

The man says: What the...

The woman says: What happens?

The healer says: There is nothing for you to be afraid of. You must press out, lady, you must press out!

The man says: Persist!

The child says: I want something to wear. Hey! I'm accustomed to wearing expensive clothes!

The woman says: It can speak!

The child says: Listen up, my mother. I'm your child. I hope you will not call me Konusch, because that is too plain.

The woman says: May all this be because I've drunk too much beer? What is the child saying?

The healer says: I can now cut the umbilical chord.

The child says: You know, before my death I was a general. I also had an excellent name, and was called Peter. And I hope I'll get a drink, you monster, on the other hand I will not drink any milk!

The man says: O Peter, you stop wriggle like a worm!

The child says: I have not drunk fire-water for eight months...

Next day some scribe wrote: "A BABY TALKS! IT IS A HOLY GIFT!"

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