Poetry and Prose of the Lilitai
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? Rhetorica Your Writing System Sucks
posts: 1279
, Kelatetía: Dis, Major Belt 1

Súai 'l Atshasa Léyerúis, il Íora Tshúkotía Fínanía

Poetry is a brain disease. Here is a demonstration of the symptoms, brought to you by a dead sceptic from the distant future, albeit before she became infamous for decrying the religious elements of her culture's self-invented social conventions.

The orthography is pretty simple; you can assume an English-like tense-lax system for accents (e.g. <ú> = /u:/ vs. <u> = /ʌ/). <tsh> and <dzh> are just /tʃ/ and /dʒ/.

The scansion for most of this stuff is dreadful and either sounded good in my head or needs severe revision.

I'll be filling this in as more are written and translated. I may even gloss some of it eventually—but be aware that the glosses are pretty unexciting.

Since many of the titles are merely the first line, I've given a more literal translation for the English ones in the title and then proceeded with a more prosaic rendition in the text itself.

The Stars Inform

Asa Atshai Altsithezeia kai

The stars say
that we must have patience,
that the winds will blow us safely,
that tomorrow homes shall be ours.
But they are merely rocks,
and we are merely brave.
asan Atshai al'sithezei' kai
tse' sagevara rézíretei' kai,
tse' Shúthimai sampawai wash'illei' kai,
tse' suntsho'ta, koisasa sin'illei'° kai.
Ek' izzya vezeia kedo'hai,
khé izzya veteia gal'ríhai.

°siní ivilleia, 1-GEN.F.PL-be-3.PL.FUT
For those who have not yet heard me ramble about the history of the early Lilitai: they were space nomads, travelling between extremely isolated worlds and solar systems. This was not by choice; their old home (and the slavery that went with it) had been destroyed. Throughout most of the nomadic period, which they call the Years of the Fringe, yearning for a comfortable place to call home remained a major topic in their lyrics.

I saw her in my dreams

Apas sí shistoai lara trúheré,

I saw her in my dreams,
beauty that could not be,
beauty of dusty mesas
and blushing skies
beauty of wretched little shrubs
and vile beasts
but when I awoke,
only the red stain lingered.
Apas sí shistoai lara trúheré,
motika ts·ha alékin vezé,
motika il leplí kedovasa
hé keimbesheneí dazolíasa
motika il vendúturí lizí regwasa
hé alesturí eghilerasa
ekla tsetú tshumekheré,
enzí a dzherí khralíú nohella.
This is an example of an early ifilisúa, or longing poem, where the author describes what she misses most about her old home. While the genre is best known for delicately tip-toeing around politically volatile issues such as romanticizing slavery, early poems were more pastoral, often focusing on a comparison to female beauty, or sometimes a literal woman lost on the wastes. The most famous of these is The Garden-Haired Girl by Sarthía.

Can the old ways liberate?

Ostelarikai nateponezeia kin dí?

Can the old ways liberate?

Yes, of course—
they can liberate
a girl from her sisters,
a mother from her daughters,
a heart from its head,
a people from its destiny.

Do not ask, child,
if the old ways can liberate.
Curiosity is unbecoming
in an obedient fool.

Ost'ikai natep'ezeia kin dí?

Zú, énzighya°—
natep'ezeia kin ·
atetía mí'ftavin,
mefísta eft'avin,
amelía teksavin,
stina sarv'avin.

Alédzafindré, atetíê,
suréú ost'ikai natep'ezeia kin.
dhísúekhta natothahezríha vezé
apas mí Kadzhíra.

°with certainty
Some people were not so shy about their desire to turn to the old ways; they formed a political movement called the Mitradzhethíasa (Empire-Builders) and insisted the best course of action was to succeed the old throne. During her height, Fínanía spoke often in favour of their cause, but she was initially quite sceptical. The final words, "curiosity is unbecoming in a slave," are particularly powerful at invoking the misery of the past.

A machine

Mí theone

On another planet,
a machine clicked,
slowly winding its way
to the end.
No hand built it,
no eye saw it,
no heart invented it.
It had no mechanism,
no purpose.

O, Great Winds!
Blow to us a new one!
Blow to us a new one.
Apas noví pléa,
mí theonú kletella,
wakas kekhía
kewalya natotelmenella.
Lenú gí zhola dústebisúla,
Lenú gí tra trúisúla,
Lenú gí amelía mizhanisúla.
Lé gí bízikenú írella,
Lé gí vekhrenú írella.

Kelí Shúthimífasa!
Washúthindeia sinakan surví menú!
Washúthindeia sinakan surví menú.
A simple cry of desperation over the perceived hopelessness of their journey. The Lilitai sought to settle or co-habit more than a hundred planets over the course of their voyage, being turned or driven away in almost all cases. This perpetuated the despair that had followed them since their exodus, though it was combated nevertheless by the profound tenacity of a formerly enslaved people desperate to embrace and discover their freedom.

In our bed

Apas siní vúla

Let that
for an hour more
here your body
we might hold,
in our bed
of curves
and dreams,
for the sky
with you is finally
not so empty
and for once
two thousand years
could sound
like paradise.

Rísarinrai tsenú
mí taliva núis,
olíes thel'-rara
etanliteia kin,
apas siní vúla
il flovéasa
hé shistoasa,
kweké ts' Ossifa
ýé¹ ra kaz'loíha°
alviza sotanya
khé míví talata,
lerayerí pléovai
sithizeia kin
nolezyadis iv fa.²

°variously: so unused, depleted, emptied, null, or worn out
¹/je:/ = íé
²literally, "no less than light"

A healthy Lilitu may live for up to five thousand Thessian great cycles, or about the whole length of recorded human history on Earth.

The coast

a Lepshúnelía

And though the coast bellows,
its glittering calm
submerged beneath the rage
of suns,

my heart is firm, as it shall always,
my heart is firm, as it has always;

a well-worn outcropping
of chilled magma and ice,
transformed by the cen-
turies and yet always the same
carved by quill-tip and wind and wave
forever in your embrace.
Khé 'kla kelsithiza a lepshúnelía,
liní yefameneí kelí sarokidta
venavegedis venes salka
il sabtina

s' amelía moíha, ilú apefíta,
s' amelía moíha, ilú akekhíta;

mí yeloí kedova'l, soim'dí sateple
hé a bedlapía, ekelara léyer-
pléovanei, nýú, yetelí'té
theluvíha, ekhtelara stíara
hé adíanai, hé hipakanai,
yeñgí talinata apas rí garsekhtýa.
The rocky imagery used here makes this a veiled ifilisúa (longing poem), but following the colonization of Illera, talk of geological time and the beauty of caverns would become commonplace in Lilitic verse (e.g. Illerakal by Rhetorika.)

While under the rain

Tsata vendilya

In the rain, running
in the rain I saw him:

that great beast of metal and heart
that great civil beast who had been Master.

In the raindrops, crystal mirrors,
I saw the entirety, of his reason:

each memory, each achievement,
each touch, each savagery.

But this morning,
the rain fell
to clarity.

And in the morning,
I was free.
I, Íoya Chúkotía.
Tsata vendilya sivlenehé
tsata vendilya lôn trúeré:

el' kelí eghilera il balí amelía
el' kelí eghilero swôn Oksí vishúla.

Apekei diladte, lapí lemperai,
trúeré yeñklativíôn, il l'í rahissai:

mentí tsheñghekía, mentí dekkekía,
mentí rezyekía, ment' ekkedekía.

Ekla olí talata,
a dilai dúpelleia

Khé wapas atshogía,
aléponírasé, sa
Íoya Tshúkotía.
An example of a neptifilisúa (post-longing poem). Íoya was Íora's original name prior to the Exodus; it came to be considered taboo as it was perceived as being too supine. (íoya: "respect;" íora: "warmth")

Don't you listen for the sound of the end of the world

Aléhaitendré a sithakal il a kekhía il a Ossa...

Don’t listen for the sound
of the end of the world
when the earth is sand
and all the winds push down
and our faint cries
fade into the blizzard

Don’t listen, don’t listen,
it is not your calling.

It is only the turning of the page.
You shall soon again thrive.
You shall soon again thrive.
Aléhaitendré sithakal
il a kekhía'l an Ossa
tsata hapla mokaplé·hé
khé kal'pizé yeñgí shúsa
khé siní vení dúteka
eipho'kal natrúthiza

aléhaitendré, aléhaitendré
alez olawa vekhrumbedhé.

stemalí lezgek·ha izzya vizé
suntalya kezo-'tilidra ke.
suntalya kezo-'tilidra ke.
Another motivational poem. Storms and blizzards are often regarded as examples of nature's power, largely because of the religious importance of winds (similar to the Greek notion of the winds of fate, albeit carried to the absurd.)

She Who Endured


Ten thousand years she lived
powerful and brave
in a tower of silk and white
above even Gegloka
I think it strange
this queen, this grandmother
was more a slave than any.

What hardships she must have endured!
What worries she must have suffered!

At least now, with certainty
Tshayéa can say she has come home.
Epitaph written by Íora for the death of Moiléa Tévopía, a Lilitu who had secretly been an advisor to the king of the Ksreskézai before the extinction. The Lilitai were constantly astonished to discover how much of Ksreskézaian society their kind had actually managed, a fact that was exploited extensively by their leaders in motivating the people to build a new society.

A paintbrush from your head

Khristía swaval raní teksa

A paintbrush of your hair:

For years I thought it was
the last of your gifts I still had,
a tiny citation in the book of my life
that kept us inextricable,
that kept my being incomplete
unless you were included
even if in just such a tiny way.

But then, at last, I let myself remember
all that we were
all that you made me
all those decades we spent as one.

And I knew the paintbrush
was merely a candle
under our vast, starry sky.
Deaths were not uncommon in the early years of space travel, as the ageing spacecraft were dangerous, nutrition was still being discovered, and there were many skirmishes. Although history does not record Íora as having lost a romantic partner to death before c. 400 LILPO when these poems were collected, such stories were hardly uncommon.

The one apple tree

mí Bosekhrona-lara

An apple tree of Alfossa
of a yellow sun and a nitrogen sky
of fair skin and radiant ruby kisses
of such patience and a love that
could last a lifetime.
Carry us, your roots twisted.
Take us by gene
where we cannot go
by wing or foot.
Carry us, little branches.
Take us home.
An alfasúa (alpha-poem); an alternative kind of longing poem focusing on speculation about Earth. The Lilitai had no idea what their ancestors were like and could only infer a small amount of information about Terran biology from the handful of crops they had received. In one speech, Oshes Suntumekha by Gleméa Haidtúa, it is suggested that the Lilitai could be so different from other humans that they might not be welcomed "with open wings."

I was kissed under a stripe of passionate red

Koserasé venes mí klera dzheris

Kissed under a red ribbon,
the fleeting banner of lust
your dress thrown overhead.
In my ear your breath burned.
Ripe, humid with the rain
of the moment to come.
But from the edge of vision
another storm ensnared me
in the heavens outside.
The beauty of the nebula
brought little Fínanía to her knees
and I could think of nothing else.
Surely in such a home
of gold-flecked filaments and icy spires
one could expect to find a goddess.
And then you turned and saw,
and you understood,
and with another kiss
(after a while)
you showed her to me.
Admiration of the stars and nature reached a new height in the late fourth century, when the Lilitai revisited the massive Globkhro star cluster and saw the nebula there for the first time. Religious artefacts and texts from the early Sarasí period are thus heavily encrusted with suggestions that true deities, unlike their self-consciously artificial deity-concepts, might dwell within such beautiful phenomena.

I dreamt your after-image...

Shistoreperasé raní neptrúekhara...

I dreamt your ghost,
I dreamed she laid beside me,
pressed tight between my wings
shivering so cold, so nervous
shivering like I do
like I did on our first time
and I at once alone
and together.
I'll see you soon,
tucked away warmly in the garden soil
where we will grow old together
and be happy eternally
without ever leaving our bed
of flowers.
The Lilitai bury their dead in gardens so that they might renew the soil. The concept of the neptrúekha, while commonly translated as a ghost, is much closer to a doppelgänger, albeit one caused by grief and not bearing ill omen.

The lights oscillated

asa Fathíai kúgwishúa

The lights shook
and the music pounded
and together we danced
what filled our hearts.
I was clumsy,
you were deft,
but you never laughed,
and I never regretted.
Today, I think,
I will buy a new ekhañka,
with sequins and gems
and glittering ribbons fine
and see what fills
my heart tonight.
Íora was an antisocial recluse, so this is a pretty big step for her.

The blood-worker is a stranger

a Múnílda felozara vizé

The scientist is a stranger
in the halls of a painted ship
its bulkheads and walls alive
with the playful musings
of unreal tale and song.
But though she may
be laughed at
or pitied
only a fool would do so
for in the shine and glitter
of her curious, well-trained eye
there can be seen
a reflection of the cosmos itself
and the greatest song of all.
On this much, Lezí Regsabta and I
The Lilitai divided themselves into four "genders" according to aptitude. One of these, the blood-worker, encompassed everything from scientific curiosity to military valour. Despite being the engineers responsible for keeping their ship running, such women were often marginalized or ostracized by the rest of the population. It is telling that even the highly critical Íora felt a need to write about the problem.

Magical Quill

Haspí stía

If I had a magic pen
I'd change this chin of mine
I would edit into a gracile point
and make history forget the teasing
If I had a magic pen
I'd melt my shoulders down
And all the finest clothing then
would not be so hard to find
But if I had a magic pen—
oh, what a chore!
Not a day would go by then
that others banged at our door.
So maybe having a magic pen
is not so right for me.
Who needs it, anyway?
All I truly desire is thee.
Slender shoulders and a rounded chin were considered prototypical of beauty amongst the Lilitai. This poem reflects a general anxiety rather than something specific to Íora; while she had a rather strong jawline, her chin was quite narrow, and her shoulders were smaller than average.

Love like Victory

Amekhta dzú Sabloko

Bountiful Dzhemesselía
blesses with apple-blossoms
all who gaze upon her.

But expect no fruit,
young girl,
for many seasons still.

The boughs of true love
are the hardest plants to grow.

It is alright to be frustrated.

Even I forget.
Dzhemesselía, an annual festival in which love is either renewed or replaced, gave the Lilitai a way to condense as much relationship drama as possible into a few weeks out of the year. The results of this compression were not always favourable.

To mother

Oshaka abama

Sleepless for a decade,
restless for a century;

Is it any wonder
that motherhood was once
called mental illness?

Serenity to you, Masadovía
Short grows your rest.

Thanks to you, Masadovía
May your kind never rest.
The Lilitai started off with a tiny population of only twelve hundred individuals, and did not have the necessary parthenogenesis technology to reproduce for the first four decades of their voyage. Once the baby craze took off, singers and writers took every opportunity they could to encourage population growth, but with a two-year gestation cycle, a century-long childhood, and no cultural tradition of parenting skills, the work was often discouraging and overwhelming.

Abandoned Soulmate

Zéa Neptedis

In a terrible flash, she was gone
the shattered coolant pipe vapourized her
not even a body to give back to the soil

Yesterday had been the anniversary
of the first Dzhemesselía
when you found each other
and stayed

It was just one thin, little page
separating the happiest and the saddest
in the book of your life

And that morning she was gone
nothing left but her collar
nothing left but her devotion
to you

Zéa Neptis, we forgive you

if your heart cannot bear it
all women deserve the joy
that the Quills promised you

Zéa Neptis, we forgive you

Nurturing Poaléa forgives you
Magenta-Eyed Tshayéa forgives you
You may go to her

Your work is done.
Centuries of love, unlike the brief, lifelong relationships that humans on Earth experience, could be unbelievably devastating if lost. The brilliant engineer Deztra is said to have been the only woman to truly outlive her wife (Gleméa Haidtúa), though this can be chalked up more to military discipline and less to personal fortitude.

At a windy island...

Apes mí tripte shúthis...

On a windy island
under a pale sky
she was returned

The earth was gritty
the air salty, yet dry
the sunlight faint

When our shovels cracked
we used our fingers
scrabbling hard

The dreary moon
no place for Tshayéa
no place for her daughters

I thought once
a world's greatest aspiration
was to be clean

But clearly now
metals are not everything
that counts.
Reflecting on the burial of someone held dear, this reminiscence was often believed by later scholars to be about the burial of Matriarch Gleméa in 411 LILPO, as some later poets took inspiration from it, naming Gleméa specifically as the fallen. However, both her wife Deztra Salnúkzoa and the admiral Ekhessa Salnúkzoa gave a speech at Gleméa's funeral, which has survived intact, and it makes it quite clear she was buried aboard the Rokéa, in its gardens, as had Moiléa Tévopía before her. It is possible that there was no actual basis for this text and that Fínanía was simply expressing the mood left by Gleméa's death. The mention of metals is literal and refers to the constant fight to eliminate heavy metals from the water supply aboard the fleet in the early 1st century LILPO.

Underside of my Heart

Venelía'l sí amelía

Yesterday only surface things scared me
things above the water

The hardest thing about love was keeping up
with what I was to show

How I looked, how I acted—
oh how my heart ached when she said "no!"

But now there is no line for me to walk so neatly
and I am alone

The bottom of my heart has a hole in it
(fear suggests this)

Through which all my strength now drains
from my being

I think I will go back to bed until Dzhemesselía is over
Depression was by far the most common mental disorder among the nomadic Lilitai, affecting as much as 40% of the population at any given time and sometimes upward of 80%. While in general the task of creating cultural artifacts, customs, and rituals functioned well to manage these issues, they occasionally backfired, and Dzhemesselía had quite an unpleasant underside for many of those who were unsuccessful in finding a partner, especially those who were, for whatever reason, unable to find themselves attracted to other women. Íora was notoriously cynical and difficult to approach, a fact that was so well-known that she was occasionally ridiculed for her melodramatic antipathy in comedies written by others.

The magenta glove of the dominatrix

A nethurí henwesta 'l an oksíkwa

Shame, say we,
to she who gives her throat to the collar of another
and expects no requitement

But oh! How the nostalgia
fills my breast
as I kneel on her blushing silks
and inhale the heady aromas
of Wemnian spices
The glove fits her hand so perfectly;
so smoothly

And yet, for all the complaints
this strange love
has been showered in
I feel now no imitation
no cathartic re-tracing
of the past's cruel paces

I feel here at peace
at once Íora and Íoya both
Her gloves are spun of fine hair,
not skaoka-hide.

Her love is something unique
and nurturing
something I readily forget
how to live without

and so
I keep coming back
in the tiny hours
before the rest awaken

though tomorrow
we may be called kolemai
by others
for the touch of her glove
I would die any death
so I will simply let them.
This poem caused an unimaginable amount of controversy when it was first recited in 385 LILPO, and for decades many collections of Súai’l atshasa leyerúïs absolutely refused to include it. (You can probably guess why.) Íora disowned the poem in 387, claiming it was the result of a "brief period of experimentation," (talí tala 'l arotika) much to the dismay of the estimated 10-15% of the population who secretly participated in total power exchange relationships on a regular basis. It would not be for another century that attitudes towards these activities softened and revised editions of the collection began including poem #22 again. Íora never returned to the topic in her writings, at least not officially. Íoya was her Oksirapho name (which became taboo after the exodus) and a skaoka is a large semi-carapaced beetle that can grow up to 20 inches (50 cm) in length.
? Rhetorica Your Writing System Sucks
posts: 1279
, Kelatetía, Dis
Added explanations for the poems—hopefully that makes this thread a little more accessible?
? Nessari ?????? ?????? ????????
posts: 932
, Illúbequía, Seattle, Cascadia
Sa tsha'tséna suòdtí yerezis salí Shúthimúkwía kelopílza suntaladis.
? Nortaneous ? ?????
posts: 467
, Marquis, Maryland

(I am not actually going to translate it, it is all Latinate and that requires Effort)
? Travis B. posts: 603
, Crystallogen, Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Dì-ne-k chá lì-lì-tí-ká-a te-phùp-u-ma-wu.
[dìnèʔk̚ tɕʰá lìlìtíkàà tèpʰùʔp̚ùmàwù]
PROX-ne-PL-k=GEN chámore lì-lì-tí-káLilitika-a=INST te-2-phùptranslate-u-2S>3-ma.-HORT-wu=PREQ

Could you translate more of these into Lilitika?
? Rhetorica Your Writing System Sucks
posts: 1279
, Kelatetía: Dis, Major Belt 1
Zú, suntalya! Tôñghê, olíes a Thel'pelí-Khrímrí Stipta il Sarthía vizé.
Yes, soon! Meanwhile, here's The Garden-Haired Girl by Sarthía.

a Thel'pelí-Khrímrí Stipta il Sarthía

EnglishSarasíSarasí Verse
In the dunes of Dashro’s sand
    (pure and glittering as glass)
I saw a garden-haired girl
    (her rags torn like clouds)
She had no collar, no home
    (her neck supple as a pear)
And was surely to find darkness
    (beneath the hungry pink sky)
But no fear or worry found her
    (her eyes limpid emeralds)
For the past had not been kind
    (she rubbed still at her wrists)
Despite not placing trust in tomorrow
    (exhausted though she was)
Serenity lavished her from within.

Lost long now are her bones
    (under the shattered sun)
But not the hands that saved her
    (far more ancient are they)
The Mother still watches/will watch over us
    (her eyes white as salt)
And bids us to breathe onward
    (within the cold black sky)
Have courage, my sisters
    (your hearts sturdy diamonds)
For the past has not been kind
    (and we may never stop rubbing)
Despite not placing trust in tomorrow
    (exhausted though we are)
Rostyaëkía lavishes us from within.
Apas mokalvai il Dashrí hapla
    (kantí hé fameneí ilú mileme)
Trúeré mí thelepelía-khríméurí stipta
    (ilú atshisai laní yeletshai kerekazhatézhé)
Írelara yolí fídoséôn, yolí koisa
    (laní fída sarippíha ilú litona)
Khé ossiya aléfara repella
    (venas a olrileneí fíyéthurí Ossa)
Ekla yolí alzoka síú alenzigha lara repelleia
    (laní trai lebedoshéfí klinlapíhai)
Kwevú zekínú sokhíhei alya visúa
    (noheneya kyerella lifa lí bímegnarai)
Fínanéú alya zígembézé suntshovara
    (elasséú yereservíha vella)
Zítha ameponella lara apaval.

Tshelvya múrúkasedí otalata vizeia laní klegai
    (venas a zhokredí Sabta)
Ekla alez ai zholai swai lara neptarlella
    (ostelaríha lanai vizeia)
Noheneya sampúbiza leras sai a Mefísta
    (laní trai fíyérezíha ilú énamoai)
Khé ísiza sarai des survanas adíhohilleia
    (apes a genthimí aléfí Ossa)
Arlinté galuríara, saní mímeftasa
    (rainí amelíai kelmoí kentapíai)
Kwevú zekínú sokhíhei alya vatizeia
    (khé sai atalya kyerekizin kai)
Fínanéú alya zígembizeia suntshovara
    (elasséú yereservíha vizeia)
Rostyaëkía ameponiza sarai apaval.
Apas mokalvai il Dashrí hapla
    (kantí hé fameneí 'lú mileme)
Trú'ré mí thel'pelí'-khrím'rí stipta
    ('lú daz'ai laní ye'tshai 'zhatézhé)
Írelara gí fíd'ôn, gí koisa
    (laní fída sarip'ha 'lú lit'na)
Khé ossiya aléfara repella
    (venas olril'eí fíyéth'í Ossa)
Ekla yolí alz'ka, 'zigha repelleia
    (laní trai leb'osh'í klinlapíhai)
Kwevú zekínú soyis a' visúa
    (nohe'ya kyerella lif' lí bí' narai)
Fí'néú al' zí'bézé suntsabtara
    (elasséú ye'rvíha vella)
Zítha 'mepon'la lara'paval.

Tshelvya mú'kasedí klegai vizeia
    (venas sotanya zhokredí Sabta)
Ekla 'lez zholai swai lara neptar'ella
    (ostelaríha lanai vizeia)
Nohe'ya sampúbiza leras sai Mefísta
    (trai lanin fí'rezis 'lú énamoai)
Kh' ísiza sarai — adíhohïlleia
    (apes genthimí aléfí Ossa)
Arlinté galuríra, sí 'meftasa
    (rainí amelíai kelmoí ken'píai)
Kwevú zekínú soyis a'vatizeia
    (khé sai atalya kyere kizin kai)
Fí'néú al' zí'bizeia suntshovara
    (elasséú ye'rvíha vizeia)
Rostyaëkía 'mepon'za sarai 'paval.

And for the complete effect, here is the verse handwritten in Títina (with a sadly incomplete transcription, but it's enough to give the idea I think.)

? Hālian :(
posts: 129
, Alípteza, Florida
If only I could have handwriting as pretty as that
? Rhetorica Your Writing System Sucks
posts: 1279
, Kelatetía, Koitra, Illera
Added the Sarasí text for Tsata vendilya, a table of contents, and fixed linebreaking on some English versions to better match the Sarasí verse.
? Rhetorica Your Writing System Sucks
posts: 1279
, Kelatetía, Koitra, Illera
Added three more poems to the first post, including one I'm pretty sure I should've disowned like Íora did...
? Netharía Aléhéanivía Ketablezría
posts: 10
, Masakía 'l Chelvaní Doisseia
Fínaníaha édútí sarthíaha weltai pensí talai volebizé, zelvezé kai, ekla zelwidhina édútí yestalya vezé. Khé émeshí. Khé éthelí.
She can be a bit of a dreary writer at times, it's true, but life unvarnished is often dreary. And painful. And lonely.

*sesara thelepelítas lersariza*
*busies herself in the atrium*
? Rhetorica Your Writing System Sucks
posts: 1279
, Last Kelatetía of Scotland
Translated Don't Listen. The first half is gloomy and tips downward gradually in pitch, but the second is more uplifting. The word "aléhaitendré" as it is repeated twice sounds a bit like a bugle call. (I'd write out notes, but once again I find my lack of musical education frustrating. And, no, I'm not recording myself singing it. It would not do the song justice and you would be left with bleeding ears.)
? hwhatting posts: 90
, Sophomore message
Really only very slightly uplifting...
? Nessari ?????? ?????? ????????
posts: 932
, Illúbequía, Seattle, Cascadia
The Lilitai as a whole are very much a people framed and to some degree defined by sorrow and their reactions to it. Fínanía is decidedly the more melancholic of the great Lilitic wordsmiths.
? Rhetorica Your Writing System Sucks
posts: 1279
, Kelatetía: Dis, Major Belt 1
It works better when you have some sense of the melody, but I admit Fínanía tends to be so drenched in pessimism that what she thinks of as being world-moving is really just a drop in the bucket. I think, in general, that her love poems at least have a chance of being more uplifting succinctly explains why she tends not to look past those things, except to criticize (e.g. Can the old ways liberate?) and to dismiss (e.g. The stars inform). She was not generally a happy person, and notably pushed away friendships with both camps of politicians (Sarthía had been a childhood rival/friend but attempted to amend things after the exodus, and Kona il Mitrajethíasa tried to make her an official speech-writer of the movement) by writing scathing criticisms of them. Like many great writers, however, her barbs were not enough to dissuade fame, at least some of which came from her habit of taking up controversial perspectives. Nor were they enough to dissuade others from trying to love her, though the relationships were short, and ended on generally messy terms. Of course, buried underneath all of this resistance is the artist's inevitable desire to be acknowledged and recognized—she wrote in contemporary dialects and continued to submit her work for publication, and tended to be a lot more affable at parties, where she swiftly and invariably got herself inebriated.