User talk:Uppivindinn/Archive1

Pizzameister (talk) 22:16, 3 April 2016 (UTC) Thanks, my friend, but I'm retired now. I'll not be contributing anything at all. I wish you good luck in all your battles to come. :-) Cheers Uppivindinn (talk) 22:53, 3 April 2016 (UTC)
 * No, don't leave ;_; --Kugelschreiber (talk) (mail) (block) 23:20, 3 April 2016 (UTC) 23:20, 3 April 2016 (UTC)
 * The whole exercise of changing names and purging my former self was precisely to leave for good. I'll stick to that. But you I wish all good in your future battles. I have a feeling that you two are the only ones who might miss me — and this is the kind of feeling where I'm rarely wrong. Cheers and keep up the god fight Uppivindinn (talk) 00:21, 4 April 2016 (UTC)

About the Diary
I am really retired and the diary is just for the fun of it. One rule is that people don't edit other people's diaries. In the unlikely case that anyone feels tempted to add anything to it, that contribution will me moved outside it. Uppivindinn (talk) 16:03, 20 April 2016 (UTC)

Dear Diary
Dear Diary! During the past 1-2 months, the fascination of the gladiator games in antiquity has become very clear to me. It's just so nice to take a detached look at things and see intestines and blood spilling all over the place. You see, dear diary, the view from afar is quite entertaining, and one begins to understand the finesse of the game, temporary alliances, backstabbing and all that delightful stuff. Should anyone chance to read this, I'd advise him or her to take a back seat and enjoy the drama. BUT — no bullfighting, that's cruelty to animals. So, dear diary, I bid thee farewell until the next entry, should there be one. Uppivindinn (talk) 14:55, 18 April 2016 (UTC)

Dear Diary! Yesterday something wonderful happened — The Piglet announced that he will run for President. It will be his 6. term, but in view of an absolute lack of presentable candidates, this was a load off my heart. As for the unnecessary snap general elections this fall, he is also better qualified to direct the formation of a new government than anyone else — he does have 20 years of experience. This is provided that government can be formed, which seems unlikely. I've never anticipated any elections with as much abject horror as now. I'm beginning to realize how American voters must feel. Still, miracles do happen, so we may not be headed straight for hell after all — as said, provided an XXL miracle happens, and they seem to be short supply. Till next time, DD. Uppivindinn (talk) 16:29, 19 April 2016 (UTC)

Dear Diary! Our native language has a reputation for a number of things, mostly legendary. I just had a very pleasant conversation with a professor emeritus in Icelandic and one of the things that popped up was how difficult or not Icelandic is to learn. I have had similar conversations, once with a woman who had studied Latin and Greek in Germany, and had taught both Latin and Icelandic to Germans. She maintained that teaching Icelandic to Germans was far more difficult than teaching them Latin. Icelandic only has a moderately complicated morphology for an inflected language. Yet teaching it to foreigners can be quite a bit more difficult than, say, Latin, even if Latin formally has more simple categories (as opposed to constructions with auxiliary words). The reason is simple: Exceptions. Icelandic abounds with them. The strong verbs are perhaps 180 or so, divided into six groups by ablaut plus reduplication verbs also divided into classes by ablaut. If we go very far back and count all formerly strong verbs which still show vestiges of having been strong, we might reach 200 or so. But in addition to the subdivision of an already small class, almost every one of the strong verbs shows irregular behavior in some way or another, so that the paradigms needed are almost as many as the strong verbs themselves. The number of paradigms necessary for nouns is about 200. Variety is delightful, dear diary — variety and purism are two main reasons why I find my language beautiful. Uppivindinn (talk) 15:53, 20 April 2016 (UTC)

Dear diary! You know as well as I do, what a great poet Guðmundur Böðvarsson was. I am going to leave you with, what might be his most beautiful poem to delight us both. That way something to freshen our spirits will always be here.


 * Kyssti mig sól


 * Kyssti mig sól og sagði:
 * Sérðu ekki hvað ég skín?
 * Gleymdu nú vetrargaddinum sára,
 * gleymdu honum ástin mín.
 * Nú er ég átján ára.


 * Þá dunaði haustsins harpa
 * í hug mínum þungan slátt.
 * Því spurði ég: Geturðu gleymt þessum rómi,
 * sem glymur hér dag og nátt
 * og býr yfir dauðadómi?


 * Því blaðmjúkra birkiskóga
 * bíður lauffall og sorg,
 * og vorhuga þíns bíða vökunætur
 * í vetrarins hljóðu borg.
 * Við gluggana frosna þú grætur.


 * Þá hló hún inn í mitt hjarta,
 * hár mitt strauk hún og kvað:
 * Horfðu í augu mín, ef þú getur,
 * ástin mín gerðu það —
 * og segðu svo: Það er vetur.


 * Þá sviku mig rökin, og síðan
 * syngur í huga mér
 * hinn hjúfrandi blær og hin hrynjandi bára,
 * hvar, ó, hvar sem ég fer:
 * Nú er hún átján ára.

Uppivindinn (talk) 16:37, 20 April 2016 (UTC)

Dear Diary! Some people tend to forget the beauty of other languages and other nations' poetry, when they are so engrossed in their own, as I am. I want to make as happy as I am, when I see something beautiful, but temporarily forgotten. Klaus Groth was in love with his language as well, and he had every reason to be. As it happens, his book of poetry, Quickborn, begins with a hymn to his mother tongue. We shall give it wings, small though they may be.


 * Min Moderspraak


 * Min Moderspraak, wa klingst du schön!
 * Wa büst du mi vertrut!
 * Weer ok min Hart as Stahl un Steen
 * Du drevst den Stolt herut.


 * Du bögst min stiwe Nack so licht
 * As Moder mit ęrn Arm,
 * Du fichelst mi umt Angesicht,
 * Um still is alle Larm.


 * Ik föhl mi als en lüttjet Kind,
 * De ganze Welt is weg.
 * Du pust mi as en Værjahrswind
 * De kranke Boß torecht


 * Min Obbe folt mi noch de Hann'
 * Un seggt to mi: Nu bę!
 * Un „Vaderunser“ fang ik an
 * As ik wul fröher dę.


 * Un föhl so deep; dat ward verstan,
 * So sprickt dat Hart sik ut.
 * Un Rau vun Himmel weiht mi an,
 * Un allns is wedder gut!


 * Min Modersprak, so schlicht un recht,
 * Du ole frame Ręd!
 * Wenn blot en Mund „min Vader“ seggt
 * So klingt mi't as en Będ.


 * So herrli klingt mi keen Musik
 * Un singt keen Nachdigal;
 * Mi lopt je glik in Ogenblick
 * De hellen Tran hendal.

Well, dear diary, who needs Shakespeare? Till next time. Uppivindinn (talk) 19:15, 21 April 2016 (UTC)

Now, Dear Diary, it's been a while. We will entertain our German readers by giving the German text of The Oath of Straßburg, 841. The Latin and French parts can be found, where this is, namely Straßburger Eide. But now for the German parts. Enjoy the historic linguistic aspects, it's not too difficult.


 * «In godes minna ind in thes christânes folches ind unsêr bêdhero gehaltnissî, fon thesemo dage frammordes, sô fram sô mir got geuuizci indi mahd furgibit, sô haldih thesan mînan bruodher, sôso man mit rehtu sînan bruodher scal, in thiu thaz er mig sô sama duo, indi mit Ludheren in nohheiniu thing ne gegango, the mînan uuillon imo ce scadhen uuerdhên».


 * «Oba Karl then eid, then er sînemo bruodher Ludhuuuîge gesuor, geleistit, indi Ludhuuuîg mîn hêrro then er imo gesuor, forbrihchit, ob ih inan es iruuenden ne mag, noh ih noh thero nohhein, then ih es iruuenden mag, uuidhar Karle imo ce follusti ne uuirdhit».

The text and the historical contents are fascinating. Lebt wohl, Brüderchen Uppivindinn (talk) 16:15, 12 May 2016 (UTC)