Day 16
Välit /vɑ̤.ˈlit/, 1. to focus; 2. to carve; 3. to sharpen.
Elt /ɛlt/, repetitive.
Ënselt /ɛ̝̤n.ˈsɛlt/, monotonous.
Il loft välssarri kolbhe.
I [will/expect to] sharpen the knives tomorrow.
Diphya ovälzabeneu?
Why can’t you all focus right now?
I tæsonas lịrelt välssa omnivæk.
I focus best with repetitive music.
Day 17
Vögnar /vo̤g.ˈnɑɾ/, climate. From xovö, air, and nar, life, with the compound link -g-.
Vögnaradrak /vo̤g.ˈnɑɾ.ɑd.ˌɾɑk/, thermostat.
I ümi bæk agla ku vögnar Narahjịkmu.
The Great Canyons’ climate prohibits much snow.
Day 18
Mëra /mɛ̤̝.ˈɾɑ/, sign.
Yịsamëra /jɪ.sɑ.mɛ̤̝.ˈɾɑ/, omen.
Nor /no͜ʊɾ/, 1. herbage. 2. A sign of flourishing.
I norbuhja ademlza il næba lịpål.
Full storerooms are a sign of flourishing.
Tarramlbe omnag i nor — ku yịsamëra näd.
Foliage is dying when it’s not supposed to — a bad omen.
Day 19
Uro /u.ˈɾo͜ʊ/, impression, as in the impression of a seal in wax. 2. Woodcut print, rubbing, or other image impressed onto a surface. 3. Form, manifestation, instantiated pattern.
I uro-æ̈ ademl ku phyatax lịbås?
Is the visible universe an impression?
Isen /i.ˈsɛn/, mold, casting, pattern. 2. Habit (behavioral). 3. Underlying structure.
I isen ranäd ademl kul su lịtönak.
Constant engagement with current events is a bad habit.
Kul su lịtönak literally means staying-current eyes.
Day 20
Xur /çuɾ/, 1. wiry, lean. 2. Uncomfortable.
Id /id/, chair.
T’id raxur domæla dok ku yịsapị.
That temple shrine has uncomfortable chairs.
Ku bexyë raxur t’umidas domælabe batsir båtịrre.
This adviser now has a wiry plant in the window.
Day 21
Ori /o.ˈɾi/, dough.
Ixo /i.ˈço͜ʊ/, fried.
Ku ori ranixo ku taxesgenahaitsidas ñudl Sabahjen.
The Sabaji eat fried dough at the winter solstice.
And today marks the winter solstice and Yule in Earth’s northern hemisphere, so here are two sentences to communicate the joys of the season:
Ku yịsanä Enaähjas rịbhozafịrra ïma i tsabakhjas karnibh.
Give the Sun an incense offering today for good luck!
Ku hjịbå æ ku tsimædxå kyurhjas tenösa mær padåmänbåbæk.
Wishing you all light and happiness on this darkest night.
Day 22
Dzedzai /d͜zə.ˈd͜za͡ɪ/, to waffle, to be indecisive.
Dzedzoza av klåzmlbe ku kol. Tarramlzaịrra, yibæn tarramlzaerra kul tsir.
You are waffling, and time passes (lit. dances). People will die, forget people might die.