So, after 54 chapters and one cultural primer on the systems of gender in the country Tveshė, Epiphany: The Story of a Heartbeat is done.
And Epiphany ended with a paragraph written in Narahji. Let’s talk about it.
Axopatomsa Eråsis glabdesu. Dof tëæmlaek mamgukofa mosjefenga. T’eikniphaomæ klesælịru kul makra dåmịmla av sanmoksuösaịru omnibh. Glabdeml mök lịbånibhæ̈ paänxa, dokusa kubhu tazai radåmfæva länglabdeml? Hjenähjas oxikanælaeroneu ịkur besu. Murhjas rịbhælaịrruịr. Ku fædeis murhjas oxikanælaịrru. Axopatomsa Eråsis glabdesu. Kækyåv moru glabdesu.
This paragraph begins with the use of two names, Axopatomsa and Eråsis, which are the informal and formal names respectively of Salus’ younger daughter. In addition, Salus addresses lim as Toma in the entry itself, a common nickname for someone named Axopatomsa. Any verb with glabde in it is a form of the verb eklab, an irregular infinitive.
You will also see a lot of words with the root of nibh, which translates to well-oiled. The word is also used to mean good and is extremely versatile. Oils are very prized in Narahja, where they are used to condition hair, skin, and wooden objects, in addition to their use in temples for icon anointing, scented oil offering lamps, and purificatory baths.
The entire passage translates to:
I am Axopatomsa Eråsis. This is where my mother’s journal ends. The print pages have been placed online, and I have read it faithfully. Isn’t it strangely impressive what, in the end, le decided needed to be said? People before lim wouldn’t have done it. Le dedicated this to me and gave me this choice. I am Axopatomsa Eråsis. I am ler daughter.
That, of course, is an idiomatic translation.
Eiknipha is the word for datastream or the Internet, which is meant in a loose sense because the way online infrastructure works there is very different. I translated dåmịmla loosely, as the more literal translation would be handed, in the sense of something produced via hand. The particle æ̈ (a rough-breathed æ) is a suffix attached to the word in a simple yes/no question that is under scrutiny, in this case the impressiveness of Salus’ entries.
Speaking in Narahji is very hard because the stress system is so different from English, my native language. It has more vowels and a few consonant clusters that are not very intuitive. I don’t want to say how many takes of that paragraph I needed, but my actual podcast notes looked like this:
Ax.op.at.omˈsa E.råsˈis ˈglab.de.su. Dof të.ˈæ.ml.a.ek mam.gu.ko.ˈfa mo.sje.fen.ˈga.
T’eik.ni.ˈpha.om.æ ˈkles.æl.ịru kul mak.ˈra dåm.ịm.ˈla av san.mok.su.ˈö.sa.ịru om.ˈnibh.
ˈGlab.de.ml mök lị.bå.ˈnibh.æ̈ pa.än.ˈxa,
do.ku.ˈsa ku.ˈbhu ta.ˈzai ra.dåm.fæ.ˈva län.ˈglab.de.ml?
Hje.ˈnä.hjas o.xi.ˈkan.æ.la.er.o.neu ị.ˈkur be.ˈsu.
Ku fæ.ˈdeis ˈmur.hjas o.xi.ˈkan.æl.a.ịrr.u.
Ax.op.at.omˈsa E.råsˈis ˈglab.de.su.
Kæ.ˈkyåv mo.ˈru ˈglab.de.su.
I did takes until I was confident that how I said it was the best I could do. Please keep in mind if you listen to that entry that my American English accent is vey present. I didn’t invent Narahji to be easy.
There was also a sentence that didn’t make it in, which I feel sad about — I was copying and pasting a lot of things into my audio notes.
The missing sentence: Tsemanok! I nexus lịrnibh kul tsünas åtsu bivosafbelo. Tsemanok! Through this good path by means of your dice I hope that I walk. Or, simply, I hope that Tsemanok has taken me down the correct path.
Tsemanok is a god much like Hermes, Eshu, or Ganesh, and Toma’s sentiment is something I share.