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Is it possible for a dialect to be agglutinative but for the “base” language not to be?
Yes, my fellow respondents have rightly raised the definitional issues that would give one pause about agglutinativity.
I’m going to be less scrupulous.
The difference between fusional, isolating and agglutinative languages is a significant typological difference—although of course, as with anything typological, there are shades of grey that it ignores, and square pegs that it seeks to stuff into round holes.
Languages change their typology over time. It is however not expected that two dialect would diverge significantly, through internal forces, into say a clearly agglutinative and a clearly fusional version. If their grammars had evolved to be that distinct, you would expect them no longer to be considered dialects of the same language.
However: intense influence from other languages can accelerate that kind of typological divergence in a dialect. Cappadocian Greek, to bring up the only example I can think of right now, was under intense influence from Turkish, and in fact was in the early stages of language death. The most Turkicised, southern dialects (e.g. Ulağaç) ended up having vowel harmony, and some of its inflection was starting to look agglutinative (although I fear I don’t remember details).
How are Rumi’s poems in Greek?
I swear, folks, I am not bribing Khateeb to ask me these questions!
So yes. Both Rumi, and his son Sultan Walad, wrote some verses in Greek and in Turkish. That he wrote in Greek is no surprise, given that Rumi means “of Rum = The (former) Roman Empire”, where Rumi settled (Konya).
I have linked to most of the Greek verses in Greek Verses of Rumi & Sultan Walad on my website. There is a more recent publication of some more of Sultan Walad’s Greek verses, which I have not included.
I put the page up, because I was concerned that the major source on the verses, the latest attempt to decipher the Greek by Dedes in 1993, was a small publication that I came across by accident: I met the author socially, he was the cousin of another scholar. Noone outside Greece would ever see it; so I decided to put it with its translation online, to make it accessible.
Rumi’s text is very difficult to decipher in particular. Both Rumi and Sultan Walad wrote in Arabic script, and Rumi used no vowel pointing. Rumi’s and Walad’s Greek is just OK, and neither sound to me as anything but second-language. I made a point of including previous attempts to read the text, so people could see how tentative the interpretations are. (There has been one or two comments on Dedes’ interpretations since, published in Byzantine Studies journals.)
I wrote four blog articles on the texts in 2009:
- Rumi and Sultan Walad, Konya, mid-1200s
- Rumi and Sultan Walad, literary notes
- Rumi and Sultan Walad, linguistic notes
- Rumi & Walad: Cantabrigensian Contribution (thoughts by Petros Karatsareas)
There are two possible answers to Khateeb’s question: how is the language of Rumi’s Greek poems, and how good are they as poems by Rumi.
I would dearly like for someone familiar with Rumi and Sufism to answer the latter. Are they representative of Rumi? Are there any surprises? I’m afraid I don’t know. Does anyone here?
For the language: most of Rumi’s verses are macaronic, switching between Greek and Persian (and in one instance, an imitation of Quranic Arabic). The Greek is archaic, maybe even a little more archaic than we’d expect by the 13th century; but no amazing revelations about the history of Mediaeval Greek. Quite possibly the first poems to rhyme in Greek: Christian Greek got rhymes from Italy a century later. The Greek is halting in places (I think there’s one or two wrong prepositions in Rumi, and Walad uses too many pronouns), but it is intelligible.
As poetry, I prefer Walad’s, simply because they are longer, in just one language, and coherent (though Dedes gave an extensive paraphrase in his edition of the longest poem, to help interpret the allusions Walad makes). The Rumi verses to me sound like you’re catching bits while tuning a radio.
Would modern Greek speakers understand Longus, Daphnis, and Chloe in original Greek?
I’ve written a couple of answers where I’ve translated Classical Greek using only my knowledge of Modern Greek—although I was being overly permissive about understanding Classical grammar.
So. Daphnis & Chloe, 2.5.
https://msu.edu/~tyrrell/daphchl…
Thereupon, he burst into loud laughter with a voice unlike that of a swallow or nightingale or swan. At the same time, he turned into an old man like me and said: `Philetas, it’s no trouble at all for me to kiss you, for I want to be kissed more than you want to be young again. Consider this: Is this gift good for you at your age. For old age won’t help you or keep you from chasing after me once you have had your single kiss. But I’m hard for the hawk to catch or the eagle or any faster bird, if there is one. I’m not a boy, even if I look like one, but I’m older than Cronus and all time itself. I knew you as a youthful shepherd pasturing a broad herd on that mountain over there, and I sat beside you as you were playing your pipe beside those oaks yonder when you loved Amaryllis, but you didn’t see me. Yet I stood right next to the girl. It’s a fact that I gave her to you, and now you have children, good shepherds and farmers.
Translating with only educated Modern Greek:
Here, laughing a very ??, they let off a laugh such that either a swallow nor a nightingale similar to me becoming an old man. “To me, O Philetas, it is no pain to kiss you. For I probably want to be kissed, or you would become a young man. But look if the gift is to you according to age. For old age will not benefit you towards not expelling me after one kiss. I am hard to hunt, and to a hawk and an eagle and if any other vulture sharper than them. These, I am a child and if I think a child, but even older than Cronus, and that whole year. And I ?? you distributing ?? in that mountain the broad bucolics and I was by you ?? towards those ??, because ?? of Amaryllis, but you did not ??? me though indeed next to the maiden ??. So I gave you her, and already there are children for you, good natured bucolics and farmers.
ἐνταῦθα πάνυ καπυρὸν γελάσας ἀφίησι φωνὴν οἵαν οὔτε χελιδὼν οὔτε ἀηδὼν οὔτε κύκνος ὅμοιος ἐμοὶ γέρων γενόμενος· «ἐμοὶ μέν, ὦ Φιλητᾶ, φιλῆσαί σε πόνος οὐδείς· βούλομαι γὰρ φιλεῖσθαι μᾶλλον ἢ σὺ γενέσθαι νέος. ὅρα δὲ εἴ σοι καθ᾽ ἡλικίαν τὸ δῶρον. οὐδὲν γάρ σε ὠφελήσει τὸ γῆρας πρὸς τὸ μὴ διώκειν ἐμὲ μετὰ τὸ ἓν φίλημα. δυσθήρατός εἰμι καὶ ἱέρακι καὶ ἀετῷ καὶ εἴ τις ἄλλος τούτων ὠκύτερος ὄρνις. οὔτοι παῖς ἐγὼ καὶ εἰ δοκῶ παῖς, ἀλλὰ καὶ τοῦ Κρόνου πρεσβύτερος καὶ αὐτοῦ τοῦ παντὸς χρόνου· καί σε οἶδα νέμοντα πρωθήβην ἐν ἐκείνῳ τῷ ὄρει τὸ πλατὺ βουκόλιον καὶ παρήμην σοι συρίττοντι πρὸς ταῖς φηγοῖς ἐκείναις, ἡνίκα ἤρας Ἀμαρυλλίδος, ἀλλά με οὐχ ἑώρας καίτοι πλησίον μάλα τῇ κόρῃ παρεστῶτα. σοὶ μὲν οὖν ἐκείνην ἔδωκα, καὶ ἤδη σοι παῖδες, ἀγαθοὶ βουκόλοι καὶ γεωργοί
Can they understand it? It’s not Thucydides, the vocabulary and syntax isn’t that bad. But as with other classical texts: they will miss a lot.
Why is it that the Oedipus myth resonates so much with a Westerner (Generic collective)?
Thank you for your A2A, Daniel.
Jessica Lee has given an excellent answer; Vote #1 Jessica Lee’s answer to Why is it that the Oedipus myth resonates so much with a Westerner (Generic collective)?
I’m answering more because Daniel isn’t convinced:
As for the myth, it appears that the Westerner is afraid of being caught up in some spooky path of subordination to some higher authority. This is sorta the opposite of the Chinese Dao concept whereby one can “see” one’s fate and future trajectory if one observes himself and his relationship to his circumstances through deep insight and meticulous attention. But there must be more I am not seeing here.
I’m grateful that Daniel is resuming the challenge. Let me expand on Jessica’s answer, and ask them to weigh in.
Greek tragedy works on the notion that the protagonist has a flaw (typically pride), which prevents him from seeing the Right Way. His punishment is merciless and disproportionate. The protagonist is not a hero: he is not praised for his flaw, and the romanticisation of the rebel which the West has embraced is a recent child of romanticism. The protagonist is not a monster either; the audience is moved to pity, because the flaw is something that audiences recognise in themselves.
So. The Greek tradition in the West works with Oedipus’ story as follows.
- We accept the Way, but we also fear the Way, as merciless and unfair.
- We are fascinated by the individual’s struggle against the Way. We see ourselves in it, even if we disapprove of the individual’s rebellion.
- We value Oedipus’ flaw, because it is also one of our most cherished treasures as a species: our pride in our intellect.
- The defeat of Oedipus reflects our fear that our intellect, which sets us apart from the animals, cannot save us from a cruel Universe.
- The defeat of Oedipus is horrific, which reflects a visceral strain in Western story-telling (shared in unexpurgated fairy tales and mythologies); transgression of taboos is used to communicate moral lessons, and horror at the cruel universe.
So, you tell me Daniel. Which of these does not sound like the traditional Chinese way of viewing the universe?
What is your favourite Zeibekiko song and why?
My fellow Greeks have made excellent choices. So I have to choose another one.
My choice fails Achilleas Vortselas’ criteria. They are the right criteria, they are what makes a zeibekiko such a joy to dance to. But I’m choosing a zeibekiko which isn’t as danceable, isn’t as heavy, isn’t as underworld, but is just as great, and is in its way, transcendent.
At Nick Nicholas’ answer to What are the top 5 best Greek Songs of all time?, I named one such zeibebiko: Mikis Theodorakis’ One Evening.
This is the other one by Theodorakis. Drapetsona. 1960. Lyrics: Tasos Livaditis.
Drapetsona was, then and now, a working class suburb of Peiraeus. And the lyrics match.
stixoi.info: Δραπετσώνα. The original performance by Bithikotsis, with Hiotis’ virtuoso obbligato.
Built with blood. Sorrow with every stone.
Bitterness and sobs with every nail.
Yet when we’d get back from work each evening,
me and her, dreams and kisses.
The wind and rain would beat it down,
but it was a haven, an embrace, a solace.
Ah, our little house, too, had a soul.
Take our wedding crowns, take our geranium.
There’s no life for us in Drapetsona any more.
Hold my hand, and let’s go, my love.
We’ll live, though we’re poor.
A bed and a cradle in the corner.
Stars and birds through the holes in the roof.
Sweat and sighs with each door.
A sky in each window.
And when the evening came,
the lads would party in the narrow alley.
Ah, our little house, too, had a heart.
Take our wedding crowns, take our geranium.
There’s no life for us in Drapetsona any more.
Hold my hand, and let’s go, my love.
We’ll live, though we’re poor.
Is a rotational presidency a good idea for a future re-united Cyprus?
Hm.
I get the symbolism, and the symbolism is important. It would demonstrate that, whatever the demographics and the history, both communities are equal in the State.
It would work brilliantly if the presidency in Cyprus were a ceremonial head of state position, a symbolic Father/Mother of the Nation gig. The problem is that the presidency in the current Cypriot state is not ceremonial.
The 1960 constitution was pretty close to this power-sharing arrangement, by giving the Turkish Vice-President veto powers. Greek Cypriots complained that this was unworkable, and wanted it changed—which ultimately led to the 1963 intercommunal violence.
I don’t know the details; I don’t want to know the details, and I sure don’t want to get into a debate about them. But if the veto powers of the Vice-Presidency could trigger 1963, then turn-taking of presidential power could end up doing the same, lamentably.
You would want a lot more to be settled around checks and balances, a culture of political parties with bicommunal engagement, and a hell of a lot more Cypriotism (Cyprus First), for that system to be workable. (Or, just make the presidency ceremonial—but you’ve still got to fix the other issues anyway.)
Is there such a thing as Cypriotism?
It’s a very little used word, but yes:
Cypriot nationalism – Wikipedia
Cypriot nationalism, also known as Cypriotism, refers to one of the nationalisms of Cyprus, a shared identity of Greek Cypriots and Turkish Cypriots highlighting shared economic, political and social rights. Cypriot nationalism supports the reunification of Cyprus under a federation and the end of foreign interference (by Greece, Turkey and the United Kingdom).
If you’re asking whether Cypriot Nationalism has any potency as a force driving the reunification of Cyprus: my impression is, non-zero, but not much. But I don’t live there.
Which languages helped you more in learning Modern Greek?
I’m a native speaker, but I’ll venture this.
Joachim Pense correctly said Classical Greek—and he also said that if you don’t already know Classical Greek, it is something of a detour.
Knowing any language which has taken a lot of vocabulary from Classical Greek—meaning all Western European languages other than Icelandic—will help the vocabulary—but less than you might think. Knowing Italian or Turkish used to help you more with the vocabulary than it does now, because the revived Classical Greek words displaced them.
For the syntax, Bulgarian and Macedonian would help. Albanian would help for the syntax and the inflection overload (at least to get you over the shock of how much there is).
But Greek is its own language branch, so no language is going to give you the kind of leg-up you would get in other, larger language branches.
When did words begin to have double (or even triple) meanings?
I’m not quite the right person to ask about this; serious interest in the origins of language resumed after I studied linguistics.
But think about it. Why do words have multiple meanings?
We differentiate polysemy and homophony: multiple related meanings, and multiple unrelated meanings.
Why is there polysemy? Because words get applied to different contexts, by analogy and metaphor and metonymy.
When would polysemy have started? The minute humans became cognitively capable of analogy and metaphor. And that capacity may well have predated language.
Why is there homophony? Look at Marc Ettlinger’s answer to What is the reason for the existence of polysemous words in a language? (Even if he’s addressing homophony rather than polysemy.) Accidental convergence, borrowing, neologisms.
When would homophony have started? The minute there was more than zero neighbouring languages to borrow from, and the minute sound change started, and the minute people started making up new words. And that would have been not long after humans started using language.
How different is the syntax of English (in the last three centuries) from those of ancient Greek or katharevousa?
The “last three centuries” gives me pause.
Syntactically, there have been changes from Ancient Greek to Modern Greek, and in fact Katharevousa is closer to Modern than Ancient Greek, though it did pick up nesting articles inside articles (“the of the meeting chairperson”). But in the big picture typologically, they’re all pretty similar:
- free (pragmatically determined) word order, unlike English
- head–modifier, like English (although Ancient Greek is SOV, Modern is SVO)
- subordinating and clause-chaining, to an even greater extent than English (more parataxis in Demotic)
There was a lot of calquing of expressions into Katharevousa, but it wasn’t from English, it was from French. There is some translationese from English now entering the language of the press. Otherwise, there has not been significant syntactic influence.