#with a narrator

[polysprachig]

17.03.2024 | lá fhéile Pádraig sona daoibh and some borderline Merlin fanfiction in Irish ☘️🍄

*Currently learning to record and working on my reader voice—without dropping my mixed accent

Sometimes you plan to do something 4 years ago, then 2, and in the end you do it today. How long I thought it would take to improve my writing and translation skills before moving on to creative reading and how long it actually took differed quite drastically. But as I annotate the polyglot journal I started in 2020 (which is not the book pictured above), it's hard to feel like that's a bad thing, since I gave myself an appropriate amount of time to work on each stage of my projects at my current level without feeling the need to rush on to the next thing.

The audio here is cut from a set of blanket test recordings I made to test out some recording software, which is why it gives she-just-picked-up-the-text-and-started-reading-without-prep-time vibes.

Text in Irish and English below.

English translation shares the original sentiment but at a different register—as was my specific intention in this particular project.

Fadó, fadó chuaigh Merlin go Camelot.

Long before the days of yore and once upon a time Merlin went to Camelot.

Bhuel, shiúil sé chuig an gcathair agus teangacha a bhróg ag longadán anonn is anall agus é ar a bhealach ann.

Walked, rather, the tongues of his boots swaying back and forth as he made his way there.

Ní raibh ann ach stócach bocht thart faoin am sin agus ní raibh a fhios aige cén dóigh marcaíocht ar chapall a dhéanamh, agus ní raibh capall aige fiú!

He was only a young lad at that time and hadn’t the faintest idea how to ride a horse, but fortunately for him, he didn’t own one!

Ba bhuachaill deas is cairdiúil é Merlin. Bhí sé ard tanaí agus bhí gruaig dhubh, súile gorma, agus cluasa móra air.

A nice, friendly boy Merlin was, tall and thin with black hair, blue eyes and sizeable ears.

É sin ráite, níor éist sé le daoine eile ar chor ar bith – agus fadhb i gcroí an scéil seo a bheidh inti sin, déanta na fírinne.

Not that he used them to listen to anyone else – a truth which, I dare say, will be the problem at the heart of this story.

Mar sin féin, ní hionann sin ‘s a rá go raibh sé ag déanamh amaidí gach lá.

Be that as it may, he wasn’t one to make a complete fool of himself either.

Thuig sé rudaí praiticiúla, mar shampla: ná bí i do shuí ar do thóin nuair a bhuaileann tú le díbheargaigh sa choill, ná hól uisce as an áit naofa agus rudaí mar sin.

He knew such practical things as not to sit on his arse when he happened on bandits in the forest, not to drink water from a sacred well and things like that.

Cé gur thuig sé é sin, rinne sé a rogha rud freisin.

Still, Merlin was rather prone to do as he pleased.

Tugadh am crua dó, ach b’fhearrde sé é gan dabht. 

It nearly always made his life more difficult, but what great test of character that turned out to be.

Chaith sé éadach glan buanfasach. Éadach donn a bhí i gceist den chuid is mó, ach bhí léine ghorm is scaif dhearg iontach deas aige freisin.

He wore clothes which were clean and durable and mostly brown to my recollection; yet he did have a blue shirt and a wonderfully lovely red scarf as well.

Ní raibh ach mála beag amháin aige chomh maith le pocán fíona, a luasc nuair a ghlac sé gach céim, agus éadach olla áisiúil ar chodail sé air. 

With him he carried only a small rucksack, a wineskin which rocked to and fro as he took each step, and a handy, woollen blanket to sleep on.

Bhí sé an-ghaofar nuair a chuaigh Merlin thar na sléibhte ar an mbóthar gainimh, ach mhothaigh sé an ghrian ar a aghaidh. Bhí sé te go leor.

A strong wind blew as Merlin traversed the mountains on the sandy road, but the sun on his face shone warm enough.

Bhí lá breá geallta don lá, rud a rinne radharc an tírdhreacha i bhfad níos áille.

The day was proving, as promised, to be a fine one and that made the view of the landscape even more beautiful.

Bhí féar glas agus rosáin bheaga ag fás taobh le cosán an tsléibhe, crainn ghiúise ina sheasamh ar charraigeacha na n-aillte, sruthanna beaga sneachta ag soilsiú ar cheann an tsléibhe agus néalta geala ag síneadh go bun na spéire.

Green grass and small shrubs grew along the mountain path, fir trees towered on the rocky cliffs, little streams of snow glistened on each mountain peak and bright clouds stretched as far as the eye could see.

Ní fhaca sé Camelot fós agus bhí tinneas cosa air, ach níor chuir sé sin moill air.

He could not yet see Camelot and his feet grew weary, but his pace never slowed.

Le fírinne, bhí an-dúil ag Merlin sa turas mór agus bhí sé sásta, is dócha. 

Truth be told, the journey was quite enjoyable for Merlin and he was generally content to be on it.

[incandescent-creativity]

Do you ever write a sentence and then realize “Nah, that’s too self aware for you” and backspace a bunch of times.

[marlasbreastlump]

was originally gonna color and post this for pride month but i lost the original file

EDIT: Thank you to @localdisasterisk for making the image discs!! :)

[metanarrates]

if you're cringing at the genre conventions of the genre you are writing in then why the hell are you writing in it. either have something substantial to say about those conventions or shut the hell up! i will not cringe alongside you at superhero powers and spaceship battles and big eldritch worms and bone magic. i came to this story to SEE that shit and I don't appreciate it when an author tries to pretend they're above the very things they're selling themselves on

[prolibytherium]

David Attenborough narration: But this very special Fish has not come here to feed...

Me: No way dude I was so sure he was hungry but my expectations are subverted Listening and learning.

David Attenborough narration: ...He has come here... To Breed.

Me: WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[spxllcxstxr]

I found the most fantastical dog on Instagram today and I’m just obsessed

[theimplierrr]

every narrator is unreliable bc ontological truth is non-existent and therefore unattainable

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

so important for every character to be an idiot, but each in their own unique beautiful way

[ohmaerieme]

did anyone else think the exit-door office scene was the stanley parable or was that just me.

[starzovermarz]

stupid

[lalikeslichto]

[tom-bakers-scarf]

Spotted this in a second hand bookshop and the whiplash I felt was so strong that I think I’ve discovered another 12 stages of grief

[cheezy-whizz]

[metanarrates]

WE'RE MAKING IT OUT OF THE TIME LOOP WITH THIS ONE ‼️‼️‼️‼️

[frownyalfred]

Dick Grayson, watching Bruce sleep his way through the Justice League, have 17 different situationships, and leave a trail of ridiculous hot but emotionally unavailable exes in his wake: well that's not going to be ME when I grow up

[oicuperp]

in the fight club. straight up "fighting it". and by "it", haha, well. let's justr say. Myself