The Best Literary Language of 2010: Lingwa de Planeta!

Summary / Summario / Resuma

English: In this post my journey finally reaches its destination. I have found my literary language for 2010. There is now officially a winner: Lingwa de Planeta (LdP). In the Language Olympics, LdP wins the Gold Medal.

Summario in Interlingua: In iste posta mi viage finalmente arriva a su destination. Io ha trovate mi lingua literari pro 2010. Es officialmente un ganiator: lingwa de planeta (LdP). In le jocos olympic de linguas, LdP gania le medalia de auro.

Resuma in LdP: Sedey may safara fin-nem ateni safara-gola. Me he findi-te may literatura-ney** lingwa fo 2010. Es ofisiale. Jiti-she lingwa es: lingwa de planeta (LdP). In lingwa-kompeta, LdP jiti un-ney pris.

** invented word ("literary") /  inventi-ney worda ("literary")

Well, folks, I am happy. I am finally happy.

Thank goodness! I have not, after all, wasted the past four months of my life! This long and difficult search, which at times drove me to desperation, has finally come to a happy ending. I get to live happily ever after.

It is now proven. I am satisfied. I can write literature in Lingwa de Planeta. It is beautiful and it is practical. I can do it during 2010. Actually, I can already do it, right now this minute. This is absolutely the only language of all the many, many international auxiliary languages (IALs) which I have evaluated over the past four months in which I can successfully write anything longer than a few paragraphs. No other language has actually delivered that. Not one! Please bear in mind that in some cases the reason for this failure to deliver results was not any fundamental flaw in the languages concerned but rather was due to inadequate documentation. Anyway, only LdP delivered the goods.

And so, I hereby officially announce the winner:

Lingwa de Planeta

is the winner of the Gold Medal

Best Literary Language of 2010

Category: International Auxiliary Languages

And it's time to start writing literature

for the planet, without needing translation,

in Lingwa de Planeta...

Congratulations to everyone in the Lingwa de Planeta team! Your language is remarkable, truly remarkable. You should all be very proud of it. You have made one writer very happy. Thank you so much for creating this language.

It is the language in which I will be writing during 2010.

As far as I can tell, there are no serious problems with the language. That is, the fundamental nature of the language seems entirely fine.

The only minor problems worth mentioning are: (1) the vocabulary needs to be larger; (2) the list of defined idiomatic expressions needs to be larger (without, of course, causing confusion by adding idioms which are illogical or difficult to comprehend; that is, we do not wish to reproduce the problems of natural languages). These are very minor problems, entirely temporary in nature, and not significant enough to preclude using the language right now. The vocabulary is actually pretty large. It's a very respectable size.

Think of vocabulary like fuel. Think of the language itself like a sports car. It's fully built, with a magnificent engine, superb suspension, handles like a dream, accelerates like a rocket, stops on a dime, is beautifully painted and superbly polished. The foundation of this language is already built. The sports car is ready to drive. There is only a limited amount of fuel available (limited vocabulary and limited stock of idioms). But there will be more fuel delivered soon, and in the meantime you can supply your own fuel when needed. Ultimately, LdP vocabulary should end up being larger than many natural languages since its wordstock is global, not regional.

So, without further ado, here is some writing. Please pardon the inevitable mistakes, I am only a few days into my first truly serious study of this language. What should be possible in a few months is essentially limitless.

Corrections are very welcome. I do apologise for the number of mistakes in the text below. I have not yet had time to do any proof-reading.

The symbol ** indicates an invented word.

A Quick Introduction to LdP

Salam. Swaagat. Swasti.
Peace. Welcome. May fortune favour you.

Hay, me nami Robert.
Hi, my name is Robert.

Walaa lingwa de salam.*
Here it is, a language of peace.

* Update: usually no comma is placed between walaa and the noun it precedes; although a comma here is allowable (in cases in which you wish to emphasise that there should be a pause before speaking the next word) it is rarely used. Where a comma would be required is in the alternative, uncommon form: Walaa it, lingwa de salam.

It nami lingwa de planeta (LdP).
It is called Lingwa de Planeta (LdP).

Ob yu es tayar? Wek!

Are you ready? Go!

Ya, sey lingwa es rasum-nem fasile.

Yes, this language is reasonably easy.

Non, maistem sey lingwa bu es ambigue.

No, for the most part this language is not ambiguous.

Ob yu vidi suy potensial? Kan ba atenta-nem!

Do you see it's potential? Look closely!

Aa, me vidi it! Sey lingwa es ga astoni-she!

Ah, I see it! This language is completely amazing!

Hey! Way bu lai kun me? Sey lingwa es juisa!

Hey! Why don't you come with me? This language is fun!

Un-nem it sembli mushkile. Yu bu rekoni wordas.

At first it seems hard. You don't recognise the words.

Bat dan yu en-vidi it: ye mucho inglish worda.

But then you start to see it: there are many English words.

Li es sol farka-nem skribi-ney. Es fasile!

They are just differently spelled. It's easy!

Ob yu jan kwo es zuy hao parta?

Do you know what the best part is?

Yu bu nidi jan romanike lingwa dabe shwo LdP.

You don't need to know a Romance language to speak LdP.

Yu bu nidi jan romanike lingwa gramatika.

You don't need to know Romance-language grammar.

Gramatika de LdP sembli kom mixitura de inglish, ruski, hanlingwa, e idyen Novial (pyu lao helpilingwa). Me dumi ke eniwan mog lerni it, bu es muhimtaa kwo es ta-ney janmalingwa*. It es verem munda-lingwa, munda-ney lingwa. It es fo oli.

The grammar of LdP seems like a mixture of English, Russian, Chinese, and a little Novial (an older auxiliary language). I think anyone can learn it, regardless of what their native language is. It is truly a world language, a global language. It's for everyone.

*Update: an alternative to bu es muhimtaa kwo es ta-ney janmalingwa is sin dependa fon suy janmalingwa. The former means "it is not important what his or her native language is", the latter means "without dependence on his or her native language". Incidentally, the reason I approached this translation this way is because there did not seem to be any LdP word for "regardless" (which is perhaps a uniquely English idiom anyway). The preposition fon ("from") is indeed the correct preposition in LdP here (as it is, for example, in Russian and German) and cannot be translated literally.

Other excellent alternatives for this expression are:
(1) nomuhim kwo es ta-ney janmalingwa = "unimportant what is his or her native language" (the Russian idiom); (2) ta-ney janmalingwa bu gwansi = "his or her native language is of no concern"; (3) kwo unkwe suy janmalingwa es = "whatever his or her native language is" (kwo unkwe = whatever)

Basta. Me mus go nau.

That's enough. I have to go now.

Danke. Adyoo.

Thank you. Goodbye.

A Tribute to Vincent van Gogh

Staraful Nocha (Vincent van Gogh, 1889)

The Starry Night (Vincent van Gogh, 1889)

Fo Vincent van Gogh

Silensa voki¹. Olo bikam silensa. Kadawan bikam silensa. Silensa es kom spas selfa, ga kom kapra de spas selfa, it weiti nu. Si nu bu atenti, silensa kapti nu, nu es hunti-ney kun it, nu es solvi-ney in it, nu shwo nixa, nu shanji nixa, e silensa jiti suy jita². Pa fin, silensa sempre mah-lusi nu. Also, duran ke nu haishi jivi, nu mus shwo, e wen nu vidi jamile skay, staraful nocha, nu mus bu sol smaili, nu mus ridi dabe diki nuy joisa.

Bifoo silensa jiti, kreati ba koysa jamile!

For Vincent van Gogh

Silence beckons. Everything becomes silence. Everyone becomes silence. Silence is like space itself, like the very fabric of space, it awaits us. If we do not pay attention, silence claims us, we become one with it, we are dissolved in it, we say nothing, we change nothing, and silence wins its victory. In the end, silence always defeats us. Therefore, while we have breath, we must speak, and when we see a beautiful sky, a starry night, we must not merely smile, we must laugh out loud with joy.

Before the silence wins, create something beautiful!

¹ Update: An alternative to Silensa voki is Silensa zai manili. The former means "Silence calls." The latter means "Silence is, right now, in the act of inveigling" or "Silence is, right now, in the act of enticing". There are three wonderful things about this alternative: (1) it taught me the English word, inveigle! (2) it demonstrates the use of zai, a particle which indicates that the verb it precedes is in the continuous aspect. This is much less ambiguous than English! "Silence is enticing" could mean that silence is in the act of enticing someone right now or that silence is intrinsically enticing but is not currently in the act of enticing anybody. Silensa zai manili can only mean the former. (3) it taught me the Russian word manilika, meaning bait or lure. This is a fine example of why a worldlang is educational: I'm learning about Russian, I'm leaning about English, I'm learning about Chinese (grammar; continuous versus progressive). Nevertheless, Silensa voki is better here. I lament, however, the lack of a verb meaning exactly "to beckon" (which involves gesture not sound; obviously silence cannot really call, it can only beckon; I presume manili is not quite as specific as "to beckon", therefore I would like such a verb).

Actually, it turns out that one of the many meanings of manili in Russian is indeed "to beckon". Therefore perhaps the perfect solution here is to use jesti-manili (jesti = to gesture or gesticulate) which clearly means "to beckon". Although it is a bit of a mouthful and for reasons of poetic beauty and aesthetics I'm inclined to leave it as Silensa voki even though the meaning isn't quite right. "Silence calls" is still rather powerful poetically. However, in a non-fiction text I would use jesti-manili.

² Very good alternatives to silensa jiti suy jita are silensa pai suy jita and silensa fai suy jita. The original means "Silence wins its victory." The first alternative means "Silence obtains its victory". The second alternative means "Silence has its victory" or "Silence takes its victory" and is extremely interesting grammatically due to the function of the verb fai which is somewhat richer than you might expect (to see what I mean, search the English-LdP dictionary for examples of using fai).

A Language Changes You

Lingwa Shanji Yu

Me mediti, kwo wud eventi si me skribi pa sey nove lingwa? Scriber wud samaji: lingwa shanji yu.

Lingwa shanji yu, kom musika. Yu mog audi it, kom melodia, iven wen it es silensa-ney, zuy wen it es silensa-ney. Sey lingwa bin bildi-te, it bu evolusioni-te. It es arta-guntura, it es arta, e sikom it es arta, it es kanvas**, kanvas fo pikting, arta-guntura kel mog kuti otre arta-gunturas. Ob yu samaji komo jamile se es?

Sey lingwa es kanvas fo pikting. Lingwa es zwo-te aus wordas. Kanvas es zwo-te aus wordas. E dan, wen scriber pikti on kanvas, ta pikti bay wordas. Pinta es wordas e kanvas es wordas. Wordas es dumas. Dumas es anubaves. Anubaves, kom pinta, lwo kyetem kom pinta-gutas kel pluvi¹ on kanvas, pluvi pa mucho kolores².

Shayad scriber es sol riva, e sey lingwa es mar, e wordas es akwa, e anubaves es pluva. Ob yu mog jawabi sey kwestas? Kwo es riva sin pluva? Kwo es pluva sin akwa? Kwo es riva sin mar? Kwo es mar sin suy rivas? Lingwa shanji yu.

A Language Changes You

I wonder what would happen if I wrote in this new language? A writer would understand: a language changes you.

A language changes you, like music. You can hear it, like a melody, even when it is silent; most of all when it is silent. This language was made, it did not evolve by chance. It is an artwork, it is art, and in being art it is a canvas, a canvas for painting, a work of art that can enfold other works of art. Do you understand how beautiful this is?

The language is a canvas. The language is made of words. The canvas is made of words. And then, when a writer paints on the canvas, he paints with words. The paint is words and the canvas is words. The words are thoughts. The thoughts are experiences. Experiences, like paint, fall softly like droplets that splatter on the canvas, splattering in beautiful colours.

It may be that the writer is nothing more than a river, and the language is a sea, and the words are water, and the experiences are the rain. Can you answer these questions? What is the river without the rain? What is the rain without water? What is the river without the sea? What is the sea without its rivers? A language changes you.

¹ Update: pluvi means "to rain". A nice alternative is sprinki, which means "to sprinkle or scatter in drops or particles". What I really want here is a verb meaning precisely "to splatter" (to splash and scatter upon impact; often refers to viscous fluids such as thick paint, soup, or tomato sauce, something which would leave marks of various sizes on the surface it splatters onto). I guess sprinkli is reasonably close to this in meaning but there is a big difference between "to sprinkle" and "to splatter" in English (the former implies a small amount of small particles; the latter suggests a large amount of large particles which typically would have a random distribution of sizes). Anyway, in the absence of a specific verb for "to splatter" I thought it was best to play it safe and use an internationally unambiguous metaphor, "to rain". Remember, I have no idea what the native languages of my readers may be. Mandarin? Arabic? Hindi? Russian? Swahili? Icelandic? Perhaps their native languages have no word for "to splatter". They are bound to have a word for "to rain". It's an interesting dilemma.

Indeed, it turns out that some other languages, like Russian, have no word for "to splatter". I am told that in Russian one says something like "drops and breaks apart". Anyway, here are some interesting alternatives which could be used in the text above: guti = to drip or fall in drops; guti-lwo = to 'drip-drop' (emphasising the act of falling); spoti = to spot, stain, or maculate; thus one could write fai spota on kanvas, or guti-spoti kanvas; for example, Anubaves, kom pinta, lwo kyetem kom pinta-gutas kel guti on kanvas e spoti it pa mucho kolores.

² Update: I had incorrectly written kolors instead of kolores. The former is incorrect spelling. Plurals in LdP are formed by adding -s to nouns ending in a vowel and -es to nouns ending in a consonant. What is extremely interesting about this example is that I have intentionally chosen to write kolores rather than merely kolor. Why? Because mucho kolor could mean either "much colour" (for example, a really bright and colourful shade of red) or "many colours" (for example, red, blue, green, pink, violet, brown, yellow, and silver). But mucho kolores can only mean the latter. Unlike most European languages, LdP does not require you to decline nouns for plurality, providing that the context makes it clear whether the noun is singular or plural. The word kolor means equally either "colour" or "colours"; it implies nothing about number. However, the word kolores only means "colours"; it is plural. Please see the official grammar of LdP for further explanation.

Footnote: Other Awards in the Language Olympics

The Silver Medal goes to Sambahsa: unfortunately unable to grab the Gold Medal this year due to inadequate documentation; the language itself appears to be utterly flawless and has the greatest literary beauty of any constructed language I've ever seen (but is challenging to learn at first). The Bronze Medal goes to Frenkisch: unable to score higher this year due to its incomplete grammar; however its vocabulary and pronunciation are exquisitely beautiful, second only to Sambahsa (although not a global vocabulary). Best Supporting Language of 2010 goes to Interlingua: I wouldn't want to write a novel in it, and it is needlessly difficult, but for its originally intended use of writing very short abstracts, intended to be readable by highly educated Continental Europeans without prior study, it actually works. But, for now, to quote Bugs Bunny: "That's all, folks."