the thing you need to realize about localization is that japanese and english are such vastly different languages that a straight translation is always going to be worse than the original script. nuance is going to be lost and, if you give a shit about your job, you should fill the gaps left with equivalent nuance in english. take ff6, my personal favorite localization of all time: in the original japanese cefca was memorable primarily for his manic, childish speaking style – but since english speaking styles arent nearly as expressive, woolsey adapted that by making the localized english kefka much more prone to making outright jokes. cefca/kefka is beloved in both regions as a result – hell, hes even more popular here
yes this
a literal translation is an inaccurate translation.
localization’s job is to create a meaningful experience for a different audience which has a different language and different culture. they translate ideas and concepts, not words and sentences. often this means choosing new ideas that will be more meaningful and contribute to the experience more for a different audience.
There was an example during late Tokugawa period in Japan where the translator translated, "Я люблю Вас” (I love you), to “I could die for you,” while translating
Ася, (
Asya) a novel by Ivan Turgenev. This was because a woman saying, “I love you,” to a man was considered a very hard thing to do in Japanese society.
In a more well-known example,
Natsume Soseki, a great writer who wrote, I am a Cat, had his students translate “I love you,” to “the moon is beautiful [because of] having you beside tonight,” because Japanese men would not say such strong emotions right away. He said that it would be weird and Japanese men would have more elegance.
Both of these are great examples of localization that wasn’t a straight up translation and both of these are valid. I feel like a lot of people forget the nuances in language and culture and how damn hard a translator’s job is and how knowledgeable the person has to be about both cultures. [x]
Important stuff about translation!
Note that you can apply this to your own translations even if they aren’t big pieces of literature or something. Don’t feel bad about not translating word for word. An everyday sentence may sound odd translated literally – it’s okay to edit a little bit so it feels right!
Oh my god, I’m about to go on a ramble, I’m sorry, I can’t help it, the inner translation nerd is coming out. I’m so sorry. The thing is–there is actually no such thing as an accurate translation.
It’s literally an impossible endeavor. Word for word doesn’t cut it. Sense for sense doesn’t cut it, because then you’re potentially missing cool stuff like context and nuance and rhyme and humor. Even localization doesn’t really cut it, because that means you’re prioritizing the audience over the author, and you’re missing out on the original context, and the possibility of bringing something new and exciting to your host language. Foreignization, which aims to replicate the rhythms of the original language, or to use terminology that will be unfamiliar to the target culture–(for example: the first few American-published Harry Potter books domesticated the English, and traded “trousers” for “pants”, and “Mom” for “Mum”. Later on they stopped, and let the American children view such foreignizing words as “snog” and “porridge.”)–also doesn’t cut it, because you risk alienating the target readers, or obscuring meaning.Another cool example is Dante, and the words written above the gates of hell: Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.
In the original Italian, that’s Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate. Speranza, like most nouns in latinate languages, has a gender: la. Hope, in Italian, is gendered female. Abandon hope, who is female. Abandon hope, who is a woman. When the original Dante enters hell, searching for Beatrice, he is doomed, subtly, from the start. That’s beautiful, subtle, the kind of delicate poetic move literature nerds gorge themselves on, and you can’t keep it in English. Literally, how do you preserve it? We don’t have a gendered hope. It doesn’t work, can’t work. So how do you compensate? Can you sneak in a reference to Beatrice in a different line? Or do you chalk her up as a loss and move onto the next problem?
You’re always going to miss something–the cool part is that, knowing you’re going to fail, you get to decide how to fail. Ortega y Gasset called this The Misery and Splendor of Translation. Basically, translation is impossible–so why not make it a beautiful failure?
My point is that literary translation is creative writing, full of as many creative decisions as any original poem or short story. It has more limitations, rules, and structures to consider, for sure–but sometimes the best artistic decision is going to be the one that breaks the rules.
My favorite breakdown of this is Le Ton Beau De Marot, a beautiful brick of a translator’s joke, in which the author tries over and over again to create a “perfect” translation of “A une Damoyselle Malade”, an itsy bitsy poem Clement Marot dashed off to his patron’s daughter, who was sick, in 1537.
This is the poem:
Ma mignonne,
Je vous donne
Le bon jour;
Le séjour
C’est prison.
Guérison
Recouvrez,
Puis ouvrez
Votre porte
Et qu’on sorte
Vitement,
Car Clément
Le vous mande.
Va, friande
De ta bouche,
Qui se couche
En danger
Pour manger
Confitures;
Si tu dures
Trop malade,
Couleur fade
Tu prendras,
Et perdras
L’embonpoint.
Dieu te doint
Santé bonne,
Ma mignonne.Seems simple enough, right? But it’s got a huge host of challenges: the rhyme, the tone, the archaic language (if you’re translating something old, do you want it to sound old in the target language, too? or are you translating not just across language, but across time?)
Le Ton Beau De Marot is a monster of a book that compiles all of Hofstader’s “failed” translations of Ma Mignonne, as well as the “failed” translations of his friends, and his students, and hundreds of strangers who were given the translation challenge (which you can play here, should you like!)
The end result is a hilarious archive of Sweet Damosels, Malingering Ladies, Chickadees, Fairest Friends, and Cutie Pies. It’s the clearest, funniest, best example of what I think is true of all literary translations: that they’re a thing you make up, not a thing you discover. There is no magic bridge between languages, or magic window, or magic vessel to pour the poem from one language to another–translation is always subjective, it’s always individual, it’s always inaccurate, it’s always a failure.
It’s always, in other words, art.
Which, as a translator, I find incredibly reassuring! You’re definitely, one hundred percent absolutely, gonna fuck up. Which means you can’t fuck up. You can take risks! You can experiment! You can do cool stuff like bilingual translations, or footnote translations! You write your own code of honor, your own rules that your translations will hold inviolable, and fuck it if that code doesn’t match everyone else’s*. The translations they hold inviolable are also flawed, are failures at the core, from the King James Bible right on down to No Fear Shakespeare. So have fun! It’s all in your hands, miseries and splendors both.
As french is my mother tongue and my father is a long-suffering translator, I feel like NEED to get a copy of that book for our family. Like, absolutely NEEEED it.
I think the first time I really admired a translation was in Harry Potter, actually. A lot of the characters got name changes when translating into french. When they introduce Oliver Wood, for example, he’s introduced in a pun.
Harry is in trouble, and McGonagall tells him to follow her, then interrupts a class to “borrow Wood”. Harry think she’s borrowing a stick to hit him. (I have a host of feels about an 11 y-o assuming he’s about to be hit with a stick, but time and place.) Oliver Wood comes out, haha.
In french, that won’t work. “Puis-je emprunter Wood/Bois” would not in any way make sense, except if it was someone’s name, so the joke fails. Do you cut out Harry’s reaction, or change Oliver’s name?
There’s a common format of french family names- Du/De la/Des, all meaning “from the”. Du Rosier, De La Salle, D’Allaire, Des Lauriers, etc. But “du” can also mean “some”. The easiest way to preserve the joke was to change Oliver’s name to “Du bois”, which made “Puis-je emprunter Du bois” / “Can I borrow some wood”. The joke works perfectly, and Olivier Dubois has a perfectly normal french name. Kinda thing most people wouldn’t even notice. Totally seamless, totally french, totally unremarkable. I remember being floored by how slick that translation job was.
Imagining a translator trying to come up with a fix for that simple introduction of a relatively minor character makes me really happy. I hope someday someone notices a translation by my dad and is similarly impressed by his cleverness.
Tag: languages
Eldsjäl
[’eldɧɛːl]
All people speaking more than one language run into those situations:
when you want to describe something and the word you want is stuck on
the other side of the language barrier with no passport.
My dictionary tells me “enthusiast” is the English equivalent of eldsjäl, but that’s not true. We have borrowed “entusiast” into Swedish and they’re not synonymous.
An enthusiast is someone who is deeply interested in something.
An eldsjäl is someone who burns for something, someone who devotes heart and soul, personal time and resources, to this one thing out of pure passion for what they do; there’s love in that word, there’s care and loyalty and pride in that word, and a bond with one’s passion that is much higher, stronger, and deeper than what enthusiast conveys.
Eldsjäl means “fire soul”. Please make this part of the English language.
(via sdimwit)
The word you’re looking for is “fangirl.”
(via spiderine)
Sometimes i think about the idea of Common as a language in fantasy settings.
On the one hand, it’s a nice convenient narrative device that doesn’t necessarily need to be explored, but if you do take a moment to think about where it came from or what it might look like, you find that there’s really only 2 possible origins.
In settings where humans speak common and only Common, while every other race has its own language and also speaks Common, the implication is rather clear: at some point in the setting’s history, humans did the imperialism thing, and while their empire has crumbled, the only reason everyone speaks Human is that way back when, they had to, and since everyone speaks it, the humans rebranded their language as Common and painted themselves as the default race in a not-so-subtle parallel of real-world whiteness.
In settings where Human and Common are separate languages, though (and I haven’t seen nearly as many of these as I’d like), Common would have developed communally between at least three or four races who needed to communicate all together. With only two races trying to communicate, no one would need to learn more than one new language, but if, say, a marketplace became a trading hub for humans, dwarves, orcs, and elves, then either any given trader would need to learn three new languages to be sure that they could talk to every potential customer, OR a pidgin could spring up around that marketplace that eventually spreads as the traders travel the world.
Drop your concept of Common meaning “english, but in middle earth” for a moment and imagine a language where everyone uses human words for produce, farming, and carpentry; dwarven words for gemstones, masonry, and construction; elven words for textiles, magic, and music; and orcish words for smithing weaponry/armor, and livestock. Imagine that it’s all tied together with a mishmash of grammatical structures where some words conjugate and others don’t, some adjectives go before the noun and some go after, and plurals and tenses vary wildly based on what you’re talking about.
Now try to tell me that’s not infinitely more interesting.
I definitely recommend that anybody interested in worldbuilding of this sort do some research into some foundational linguistics, especially on the issue of language contact! It’s really interesting stuff, and could definitely help develop your ideas. Like, I’m coming at this with a fairly undeveloped set of ideas based on studies in contact linguistics I did quite a while ago, and even though they’re probably a bit outdated or rudimentary, it’s still suggesting a much messier and even more interesting set of problems you could play with.
Here’s an issue you’ll face: many trade pidgins are not easily usable outside of the domain of trade, and thus wouldn’t be useable as a base of communication along more developed lines. However, some do expand beyond their original purpose. Based on a cursory search, I’ve found at least a couple known trade pidgins that might serve as semi-models for what you’re looking at. Historically, there was Chinese Pidgin Russian, and another is Ndyuka-Trio Pidgin.
You could come up with a lot of interesting questions as you develop a more interesting idea of Common. How early do children learn it? Do they learn it young enough to make them effectively bi- or multilingual? Pidgins, by their usual formal definition, don’t technically have native speakers, and often really are only used for contact between groups in trade, work, or other situations, and thus largely limited to the situations they’ve been cobbled together in. If you want a language that has been used around children who then pick it up and form a new language, which is formally called a creole. This will begin to show its own grammatical characteristics, as the children take your “mishmash” and develop it into a language of its own.
However, at this point individual communities would probably have their own creoles developing individually, since dwarf kids aren’t going to be sharing notes (figuratively) with elf kids and so on, and that could mean that instead of one Common, you’re developing a lot of local creoles. Or does a creole form in one community and get picked up elsewhere as the new Common? If so, which community “decides” the Common tongue?
Alternatively, you might want to stick to a pidgin, which means that it would probably be a formally reduced linguistic variety that was learned closer to adulthood, and used only by, say, traders, travelers, and others who expect to be in contact with other communities. Folks who stay in their own communities would likely know very little Common, which leads you to another interesting pressure to play with. (What happens if somebody gets thrown into an adventure who never expected to leave home? How much Common would they plausibly know?)
Your pidgin will also hit conversational walls whenever there isn’t a term or phrasing that has been formally introduced into the trade language, so it will be harder to use for new, complex ideas, or ideas you might not have learned about at Trader College.
Also, the idea that the pidgin is somehow an even mix of all of the communities suggests a weirdly even level of trade between them all. It’s much more common, in the world, for pidgins to arise in much more specific trading contexts. For example, say you have Tolkienesque standoffish elves? In that case, maybe dwarves and humans trade much more often with each other than with elves, so they form a pidgin, and any elves curious about making new friends have to learn Human Pidgin Dwarvish or whatever – not because of an imperialist background but because that’s what they’ve got.
In any case, I’d recommend researching this kind of thing just as you would research anything else in your world. Language is at the center of all kinds of complex social interactions, and there’s a reason it’s often easier to fall back on the boring old imperialist language model. But, by the same token, by building your common language around the structure of the world and vice versa, the language can end up becoming a very interesting mirror of the sorts of social interactions you’ve got going on.
I just wanted to hop in and add that pidgins can travel far from where they originated. For example, the Melanesian creoles Bislama (Vanuatu), Tok Pisin (PNG) and Pijin (Solomon Islands) all have roots in the pidgin that developed in Sydney (a pidgin of English and the local Aboriginal languages) during the initial decades of Australian colonisation.
So you could definitely have a situation where a pidgin develops (or creolises) in one community and is then adopted by people from a totally different country/race/language group, thereby creating a new “common” language (or closely-related languages).
Other things to consider:
- High levels of borrowing leading to convergence of vocabularies while maintaining grammatical differences (eg two different languages with lots of shared words)
- High levels of language contact leading to convergence of grammars while maintaining different vocabularies (eg two different languages with different vocabularies but similar grammar, therefore easy to learn)
- A dead or archaic language used as a lingua franca (eg Latin in Medieval Europe, Sumerian & Akkadian in ancient Mesopotamia)
- High levels of multilingualism (thereby doing away with the concept of a “common” language), which may involve code-switching between different languages as a default conversational practice (which, in rare cases, can fossilise and be acquired by children as a “mixed” language)
I was also wondering about this situation:
Imagine that it’s all tied together with a mishmash of grammatical structures where some words conjugate and others don’t, some adjectives go before the noun and some go after, and plurals and tenses vary wildly based on what you’re talking about.
Because I don’t think this would actually happen? Children seem naturally inclined to regularise languages, so when children creolise a pidgin or develop a mixed language as their first language, they regularise rules and apply them across the board (this is one of the reasons why people claim that creoles are “simplified” languages, because they don’t generally include the same kind of grammatical irregularities as other natural languages).
Plus grammar tends towards being modular in contact languages. For example, you can get a mixed language where the verbal morphology comes from one language and the nominal morphology comes from another language, but you don’t usually get a language where some verbs conjugate according to one language and some verbs conjugate according to another language. Yes, languages can acquire morphology from other languages through language contact, like English borrowing French and Latin nouns with their French and Latin plurals, but these borrowed plurals don’t become productive (ie you can’t add them to other words, they come attached with their host noun). So basically, while mixed languages can contain grammatical systems from multiple languages, the systems themselves are preserved intact and not mixed up together.
And I can’t imagine a language where some adjectives come before the noun and some come after (due on language contact). I mean, maybe it could happen?? But I’ve never come across that kind of syntactic mishmash in a contact language before. You would expect that a creole or mixed language would adopt one syntactic strategy from one language (though it may also adopt a different syntactic strategy from a different language in another part of its grammar).
Basically: contact languages are very well organised, with different modules of grammar slotting in together in ways that (generally) make sense according to the original grammars. It isn’t just some kind of free for all where all the rules get mixed up!
Aaaa thank you so much Claire!! I agree with your instinct about the “mishmash” thing, but you’ve worked a lot more on contact language-related stuff, so your contribution is much appreciated.
To the adjective-before/after-noun thing – well, iirc we’ve got a few fossilized examples in English from French contact? But I agree, I’m not sure it would happen except in the case of extremely fixed expressions.
Blind people gesture (and why that’s kind of a big deal)
People who are blind from birth will gesture when they speak. I always like pointing out this fact when I teach classes on gesture, because it gives us an an interesting perspective on how we learn and use gestures. Until now I’ve mostly cited a 1998 paper from Jana Iverson and Susan Goldin-Meadow that analysed the gestures and speech of young blind people. Not only do blind people gesture, but the frequency and types of gestures they use does not appear to differ greatly from how sighted people gesture. If people learn gesture without ever seeing a gesture (and, most likely, never being shown), then there must be something about learning a language that means you get gestures as a bonus.
Blind people will even gesture when talking to other blind people, and sighted people will gesture when speaking on the phone – so we know that people don’t only gesture when they speak to someone who can see their gestures.
Earlier this year a new paper came out that adds to this story. Şeyda Özçalışkan, Ché Lucero and Susan Goldin-Meadow looked at the gestures of blind speakers of Turkish and English, to see if the *way* they gestured was different to sighted speakers of those languages. Some of the sighted speakers were blindfolded and others left able to see their conversation partner.
Turkish and English were chosen, because it has already been established that speakers of those languages consistently gesture differently when talking about videos of items moving. English speakers will be more likely to show the manner (e.g. ‘rolling’ or bouncing’) and trajectory (e.g. ‘left to right’, ‘downwards’) together in one gesture, and Turkish speakers will show these features as two separate gestures. This reflects the fact that English ‘roll down’ is one verbal clause, while in Turkish the equivalent would be yuvarlanarak iniyor, which translates as two verbs ‘rolling descending’.
Since we know that blind people do gesture, Özçalışkan’s team wanted to figure out if they gestured like other speakers of their language. Did the blind Turkish speakers separate the manner and trajectory of their gestures like their verbs? Did English speakers combine them? Of course, the standard methodology of showing videos wouldn’t work with blind participants, so the researchers built three dimensional models of events for people to feel before they discussed them.
The results showed that blind Turkish speakers gesture like their sighted counterparts, and the same for English speakers. All Turkish speakers gestured significantly differently from all English speakers, regardless of sightedness. This means that these particular gestural patterns are something that’s deeply linked to the grammatical properties of a language, and not something that we learn from looking at other speakers.
References
Jana M. Iverson & Susan Goldin-Meadow. 1998. Why people gesture when they speak. Nature, 396(6708), 228-228.
Şeyda Özçalışkan, Ché Lucero and Susan Goldin-Meadow. 2016. Is Seeing Gesture Necessary to Gesture
Like a Native Speaker?
Psychological Science27(5) 737–747.
Asli Ozyurek & Sotaro Kita. 1999. Expressing manner and path in English and Turkish:
Differences in speech, gesture, and conceptualization. In Twenty-first Annual Conference of the Cognitive Science Society (pp. 507-512). Erlbaum.Incredible! I have nothing to add because I had no idea, but may I just say **WOW**!!!
this is crazy interesting to me. brainz are weird.
Is colonialism really over? A question asked many times by the Southern Sudanese and other marginzalied ethnic groups. Officially, Sudan is no longer Anglo-Egyptian Sudan, but it is still a colony. A colony of the Arabized Northerners.
The colour of the colonial masters is different, but their actions are not.
Our new masters speak Arabic, practice Islam and read Naguib Mahfouz. They wear the toub and look down on “tribal” languages and custom.
My father learned the Arabic language at the age of 7. Before that, he lived with his grandmother in a village in Nubian-sudan and spoke Nubian.
Then came the move to Port Sudan. His father was working there at the time, so he left his village to join them. School was difficult, it was in another language. You couldn’t speak a language other than the Arabic language there. If you break the rule, teachers beat you.
You are abused into learning a language.
He never taught me Nubian though. We always spoke Arabic at home.
I grew up believing it was for my own good. I lived in the Middle East most of my life and speaking Arabic made me less of an outsider there.
The official language of the Sudan is Arabic or so they tell us. There are currently 142 langauges spoken in the Sudan. Eight are extinct.
In the future, the Nubian language is going to be extinct too. I don’t speak it , I can’t pass it on to the next generation. Most Nubians my age don’t speak it.
Language represents a big part of culture. If you speak a certain language, you start reading books in it, listening to music in this language and so on. Your cultural entity becomes unidenitifed.
I don’t speak Nubian. I don’t like listening to music in the Nubian language, it sounds weird. When I visit the ancient pyramids and monuments built by my ancestors, I wouldn’t be able to understand what’s written on them.
Why the Arabic language is problematic in the Sudan
The Asmara Declaration on African Languages and Literatures
We writers and scholars from all regions of Africa gathered in Asmara, Eritrea from January 11 to 17, 2000 at the conference titled Against All Odds: African Languages and Literatures into the 21st Century. This is the first conference on African languages and literatures ever to be held on African soil, with participants from East, West, North, Southern Africa and from the diaspora, and attended by writers and scholars from around the world. We examined the state of African languages in literature, scholarship, publishing, education, and administration in Africa and throughout the world. We celebrated the vitality of African languages and literatures and affirmed their potential. We noted with pride that despite all the odds against them, African languages as vehicles of communication and knowledge survive and have a written continuity of thousands of years. Colonialism and neocolonialism created some of the most serious obstacles against African languages and literatures. We noted with concern the fact that these obstacles still haunt Africa and continue to block the mind of the continent. We identified a profound incongruity in colonial languages speaking for the continent. At the start of a new century and millennium, Africa must firmly reject this incongruity and affirm a new beginning by returning to its languages and heritage. Therefore, the question of culture, literatures, and languages cannot be separated from the economic problems of African countries created by colonial and neocolonial forces and their local allies. Decolonization of the African mind should go hand in hand with decolonization of the economy and politics.
At this historic conference, we writers and scholars from all regions of Africa gathered in Asmara, Eritrea declare that:
1. African languages must take on the duty, the responsibility, and the challenge of speaking for the continent.
2. The vitality and equality of African languages must be recognized as a basis for the future empowerment of African peoples.
3. The diversity of African languages reflects the rich cultural heritage of Africa and must be used as an instrument of African unity.
4. Dialogue among African languages is essential: African languages must use the instrument of translation to advance communication among all people, including the disabled.
5. All African children have the unalienable right to attend school and learn in their mother tongues. Every effort should be made to develop African languages at all levels of education.
6. Promoting research on African languages is vital for their development, while the advancement of African research and documentation will be best served by the use of African languages.
7. The effective and rapid development of science and technology in Africa depends on the use of African languages and modern technology must be used for the development of African languages.
8. Democracy is essential for the equal development of African languages and African languages are vital for the development of democracy based on equality and social justice.
9. African languages, like all languages, contain gender bias. The role of African languages in development must overcome this gender bias and achieve gender equality.
10. African languages are essential for the decolonization of African minds and for the African Renaissance.
The initiative which has materialized in the Against All Odds conference must be continued through biennial conferences in different parts of Africa. In order to organize future conferences in different parts of Africa, create a forum of dialogue and cooperation, and advance the principles of this declaration, a permanent Secretariat will be established, which will be initially based in Asmara, Eritrea.
Translated into as many African languages as possible and based on these principles, the Asmara Declaration is affirmed by all participants in Against All Odds. We call upon all African states, the OAU, the UN, and all international organizations that serve Africa to join this effort of recognition and support for African languages, with this declaration as a basis for new policies.
While we acknowledge with pride the retention of African languages in some parts of Africa and the diaspora and the role of African languages in the formation of new languages, we urge all people in Africa and the diaspora to join in the spirit of this declaration and become part of the efforts to realize its goals.
(via linguisten)
In linguistics, a filler is a sound or word that is spoken in conversation by one participant to signal to others that he/she has paused to think but is not yet finished speaking. These are not to be confused with placeholder names, such as thingamajig, which refer to objects or people whose names are temporarily forgotten, irrelevant, or unknown.
- In Afrikaans, ah, em, and eh are common fillers.
- In Arabic, يعني yaʿni (“I mean”) and وﷲ wallāh(i) (“by God”) are common fillers.[2][3][4]
- In American Sign Language, UM can be signed with open-8 held at chin, palm in, eyebrows down (similar to FAVORITE); or bilateral symmetric bent-V, palm out, repeated axial rotation of wrist (similar to QUOTE).
- In Bengali, mane (“it means”) is a common filler.
- In Catalan, eh /ə/, doncs (“so”), llavors (“therefore”), and o sigui (“it means”) are common fillers.
- In Czech, tak or takže (“so”), prostě (“simply”), jako (“like”) are used as fillers. Čili (“or”) and že (“that”, a conjunction) might also be others. A person who says jako and prostě as fillers might sound a bit simple-minded to others.[5]
- In Danish, øh is one of the most common fillers.
- In Dutch, eh, ehm, and dus are some of the more common fillers.
- In Esperanto, do (“therefore”) is the most common filler.
- In Filipino, ah, eh, ay, and ano are the most common fillers.
- In Finnish, niinku (“like”), tota, and öö are the most common fillers.
- In French, euh /ø/ is most common; other words used as fillers include quoi (“what”), bah, ben (“well”), tu vois (“you see”), and eh bien (roughly “well”, as in “Well, I’m not sure”). Outside of France, other expressions are tu sais (“you know”),
t’sais’veux dire? (“you know what I mean?”), or allez une fois (“go one time”). Additional filler words include genre (“kind”), comme (“like”), and style (“style”; “kind”)- In German, a more extensive series of filler words, called modal particles, exists, which actually do give the sentence some meaning. More traditional filler words are äh /ɛː/, hm, so /zoː/, tja, and eigentlich (“actually”)
- In Hebrew, eh is the most common filler. Em is also quite common.
- In Hindi, matlab (“it means”) and “Mah” are fillers.
- In Hungarian, common filler words include hát (well…) and asszongya (a variant of azt mondja, which means “it says here…”).
- In Icelandic, a common filler is hérna (“here”). Þúst, a contraction of þú veist (“you know”), is popular among younger speakers.
- In Indonesian (Bahasa Indonesia), anu is one of the most common fillers.
- In Italian, common fillers include “tipo” (“like”), “ecco” (“there”) and “cioè” (“actually”)
- In Irish Gaelic, abair /ˈabˠəɾʲ/ (“say”), bhoil /wɛlʲ/ (“well”), and era /ˈɛɾˠə/ are common fillers, along with emm as in Hiberno-English.
- In Japanese, common fillers include eetto, ano, sono, and ee.
- In Kannada,Matte for also,Enappa andre for the matter is are the common fillers.
- In Korean, eung, eo, ge, and eum are commonly used as fillers.
- In Lithuanian, nu, am and žinai (“you know”) are common fillers.
- IN Maltese and Maltese English, mela (“then”), or just la, is a common filler.
- In Mandarin Chinese, speakers often say 这个 zhège/zhèige (“this”) or 那个 nàge/nèige (“that”). Another common filler is 就 jìu (“just/precisely”).
- In Norwegian, common fillers are øh, altså, på en måte (“in a way”), ikke sant (literally “not true?”, “no kidding”, or “exactly”), vel (“well”), and liksom (“like”). In Bergen, sant (“true”) is often used instead of ikke sant. In the Trøndelag region, skjø’ (“see?” or “understand?”) is also a common filler.
- In Persian, bebin (“you see”), چیز “chiz” (“thing”), and مثلا masalan (“for instance”) are commonly-used filler words. As well as in Arabic and Urdu, يعني yaʿni (“I mean”) is also used in Persian. Also, eh is a common filler in Persian.
- In Portuguese, tipo (“like”) is the most common filler.
- In Romanian, deci /detʃʲ/ (“therefore”) is common, especially in school, and ă /ə/ is also very common (can be lengthened according to the pause in speech, rendered in writing as ăăă), whereas păi /pəj/ is widely used by almost anyone.
- In Russian, fillers are called слова-паразиты (“vermin words”); the most common are Э-э (“eh”), это (“this”), того (“that”), ну (“well”), значит (“it means”), так (“so”), как его (“what’s it [called]”), типа (“like”), and как бы (“[just] like”).
- In Serbian, znači (“means”) and ovaj (“this”) are common fillers.
- In Slovak, oné (“that”), tento (“this”), proste (“simply”), or akože are used as fillers. The Hungarian izé (or izí in its Slovak pronunciation) can also be heard, especially in parts of the country with a large Hungarian population. Ta is a filler typical of Eastern Slovak and one of the most parodied features.
- In Slovene, pač (“but”, although it has lost that meaning in colloquial, and it is used as a means of explanation), a ne? (“right?”), and no (“well”) are some of the fillers common in central Slovenia, including Ljubljana.
- In Spanish, fillers are called muletillas. Some of the most common in American Spanish are e /e/, este (“this”), and o sea (roughly means “I mean”).[6], in Spain the previous fillers are also used, but ¿Vale? (“right?”) and ¿no? are very common too.
- In Swedish, fillers are called utfyllningsord; some of the most common are öhm, ja (“yes”), ba (comes from “bara”, which means “just”), asså or alltså (“therefore”, “thus”), va (comes from “vad”, which means “what”), and liksom and typ (both similar to the English “like”).
- In Ukrainian, ой /ɔj/ is a common filler.
- In Urdu, yani (“meaning…”), falan falan (“this and that”; “blah blah”), umm, and aaa are also common fillers.
- In Telugu, ikkada entante (“Whats here is…”) and tarwatha (“then…”) are common and there are numerous like this.
- In Tamil, paatheenga-na (“if you see…”) and apparam (“then…”) are common.
- In Turkish, yani (“meaning…”), şey (“thing”), “işte” (“that is”), and falan (“as such”, “so on”) are common fillers.
- In Welsh, de or ynde is used as a filler (loosely the equivalent of “You know?” or “Isn’t it?”). Ym… and Y… are used similarly to the English “um…”.
Remember that this stuff is really important for fluency of speech. I’ve encountered a bad attitude among language teachers before: “we don’t teach filler words, because that’s not “normative” vocabulary, and it encourages students to sound unsure.” But that’s so, so wrong.
All people use filler words in conversation and even in formal settings. It’s a way to keep the flow of speech when the train of thought pauses; it holds the audience’s attention and actually helps maintain clarity of thought. What’s more, these words are instrumental for language learners, who need to pause more often in their speech than native speakers. Allowing them to pause without breaking into their language (saying a filler word in their language) or completely breaking the flow of their speech allows them to gain fluency faster.
My high school Japanese teacher did it right: “etto” and “anou” were in the second lesson. Teach filler words, people!! And if you’re studying a language and don’t know them, look at this list!! It has a lot!
@harrifox this might interest you if you haven’t seen it :3
“Euh ” was in one of the first few lessons in college-level French for me. It always baffles me when people say filler words sound uneducated; it’s a cue word suggesting you aren’t done speaking.
Attempts at making some Mando’a terms of endearment
So it seems ner (my/mine) and ika (small/little which seems to get added to words as like a familiarity diminutive thing) would be likely used in endearments pet names so I’ll make an attempt, if I stuff up grammar let me know
- riddur’ika (riddur= spouse thinking this could be a way to say boyfriend/girlfriend)
- alor’ad’ner (my captain)
- chayaikir gar (you tease)
- russ’ner (my rock)
- russ’dral (or would it be dral’russ? ‘bright rock’ aka ‘diamond’)
- uj’ika (can’t take credit for this one as asceticcyan told me this one, taken from uj’alayi which is sweet cake so this is like calling someone ‘cupcake/creampuff’ etc)
- pirun’ner (pirun means water, water of course is important to life so basically ‘you are my water’=you are my life)
- Juaan kar’ta’ner daraasum (’Beside/next to my heart forever’ a ‘in my heart’) ( or Kar’ta’ner juaan daraasum?)
- kotep verd’ner (my brave solider, if verd’ika was used I guess it could be like when you use ‘my brave little solider’ towards a child?)
- ni dinu gar kar’ta (I give you my heart)
- gar yaim’ner (you are my home)
- kot’ner (my strength)
- ni batnor gar (I’m drunk on you)
- cabur’ner (my protector)
- ni yaim’la juaan gar (I’m comfortable next to you)
- ni guuror gar (I like you)
- manda’ner (my heaven)
- ni jate‘kara (I’m lucky)
- baar bal kar’ta (body and heart =‘body and soul’)
- cuun baar tome (our bodies together/we are connected)
- gar uj’baar (your sweet body, expression of desire)
- ca bal tur (night and day)
OH MY GOD I AM DYING I AM SAVING ALL OF THESE AND I WILL USE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM AT LEAST ONE TIME YOU ARE A JEWEL YOU ABSOLUTE GET OF A HUMAN BEING!
*cackles*
I will do the same.
God bless you @starrypawz