No Except-ions

The verb “to open” is irregular in Armenian. The infinitive is panal (բանալ), which becomes yes patsi (ես բացի) when you want to say “I opened.” You also have the word patsi (բացի) with the same spelling, but with a meaning that seems to be unrelated (“except”), as well as various words like patsarrootioon (բացառութիւն “exception”) and patsadrootioon (բացատրութիւն “explanation”).

Actually, the meanings of both patsis are not totally unrelated. If you are in a room, you open a door and you get... out of it. The word was pats i (բաց ի) in Classical Armenian (the two words became one in the modern language), meaning “out of,” with equivalents in Latin ex and Greek ex, from which today we have English ex (only with the meaning “out of,” as in excellent).

As the reader should know, Armenian nouns have kept declension (khonarhoom / խոնարհում), like in the German language. The case of patsi requires that the word be used with the noun in the ablative mode, which is coincidentally called patsarragan (բացառական) and consists in the addition of eh (է) at the end of the noun: for instance, kirkeh (գիրքէ), tooghteh (թուղթէ). We also add a n (ն) when we need to use an article (e.g. kirkehn “of the book”). For example, patsi kirkeh me (բացի գիրքէ մը / “except for a book”) or patsi kirkehn (բացի գիրքէն / “except for the book”).

We use patsi as a preposition, in the same way that we use “except” in English, but the flexibility of Armenian allows bringing the book behind the noun and turning it into a postposition: tooghteh me patsi (թուղթէ մը բացի “except a paper”).

Strangely enough, people tend to make mistakes when using patsi. They do not decline the word, as in the following sentence:

Pan me chem hisher, patsi poghotsin anoone (Բան մը չեմ յիշեր, բացի փողոցին անունը) “I don’t remember anything, except for the name of the street.”

This may be or may be not influenced by English grammar, but in any case the correct use should be:

Pan me chem hisher, patsi poghotsin anoonehn (Բան մը չեմ յիշեր, բացի փողոցին անունէն).

The rule has no exceptions. The meaning in English remains the same, but the accuracy of the Armenian original improves a lot.

Speaking about Movies

As in every language, the idea of pictures that moved was originally backed with a Greek word, and this is how cinematography was born in 1896 (Greek kinema movement, from Greek kinein “to move” + graphein “to write”). Afterwards, the word was cut short to cinema.

These words are reserved to the art of making what we today call “movie,” “motion picture,” “moving picture,” or “film.” How do you say it in Armenian?

We first have sharzhanegar (շարժանկար), which is the Armenian calque of “motion picture” (sharzh / շարժ > sharzhum / շարժում “movement”+ negar / նկար “picture”). You can also say sharzhanegari srah (շարժանկարի սրահ “movie theater”), if you wish.

If you want to say “cinematography,” you can use a slightly different word: sharzhabadger (շարժապատկեր), which also literally means “motion picture.” It is the combination of sharzh and badger (պատկեր “image”).

Let’s add that the word sinema (սինեմա) is colloquially used with both meanings of “movie theater” and “cinematography.” In the 1920s a periodical called Haygagan sinema («Հայկական սինեմա») was published in Cairo, edited by writer Yervant Odian (1869-1926). However, it was not about movies, but a satirical periodical (the editor was himself one of the best Armenian satirical writers).

However, since (Western) Armenian is a language that does not like borrowings from other languages, you are not going to find sinema in dictionaries.

But you will find film (ֆիլմ), which is currently used with the same meaning as in English.

Don’t Do It Back, Do It Again

We have all probably heard people who are not English native speakers and who sometimes speak in a way that sounds like Armenian translated into English. Many who know Armenian enough to make the distinction have probably heard sentences that sound like... English translated into Armenian.

How do you correct this issue? First of all, you pay attention to what you say. Secondly, you should note that not everything that you think and say in one language necessarily makes the same sense in the other. Thirdly, you should learn and, most importantly, apply what you learn to correct your own speech. In the end, the most important thing is communication, but quality of communication is even more important.

Such cases have been discussed in this column. Another example is, for instance, the sentence: “I went back to sleep.” It is a perfectly normal English sentence. However, the problem starts when you try to make it into a “perfectly normal” Armenian sentence:

Katsee yed knanaloo (Գացի ետ քնանալու).

Rest assured that this is not “normal” Armenian, and not only the sentence sounds wrong, but it is wrong. The idea that you try to convey is that, after your sleep was interrupted, you went to sleep again. When you translate a sentence, you do not translate only the words, but also the meaning, and thus you do not make literal translations when the words are not their exact equivalent (meaning included) in the other language.

In this case, you translate the meaning “again” and not the word “back,” because katsee yed knanaloo sounds like “I fell back to sleep.” The result should be:

Katsee noren knanaloo (Գացի նորէն քնանալու).

Of Assemblies and Spellings

The Greek word ekklesia (“assembly”) is the root of the word ecclesiastic in English and has become the word for “church” in a few Latin languages like French, Spanish, and Portuguese, as well as in Armenian: yegeghetsi (եկեղեցի).

The Greek word has its Armenian counterpart, joghov (ժողով “assembly, gathering; meeting”), and this is why the title of the Book of Ecclesiastes (Ekklesiastes means “Gatherer” in Greek) has been translated in Armenian as Kirk Joghovoghi (Գիրք Ժողովողի).

The word joghov, which is the source for joghovurt (ժողովուրդ “people”), has also been used by Evangelical Armenians to denominate their temples as joghovaran (ժողովարան), even though they have retained the word “church” in English.

If you wanted to gather people for any purpose, the verb to use would be joghvel (ժողվել), where popular use in Western Armenian has left aside the second o of the root joghov. Eastern Armenian uses the standard form joghovel (ժողովել).

The spelling of the verb joghvel, with վ instead of ու, represents an exception to the orthographic rule establishing that the sound v after a consonant and before a vowel is always spelled with the diphthong ու (u), which sounds v (e.g. arvesd – արուեստ “art”; badvel – պատուել “to honor”). This is why you cannot write joghuel (ժողուել), because the root of the word is joghov (ժողով) and not joghu (ժողու)!

Diplomats May Also Know about Couches

The English language has borrowed two words from Turkish within the meaning of “couch.” One is sofa, and the other, divan. Of course, neither of them is Turkish. The Turkic waves of invasion that flooded the Middle East from the 11th-15th centuries were composed by nomad peoples that, usually, did not sit down on sofas or divans, but adopted those objects and their names from Arabic (suffah and diwan).

The interesting point is that the origin of divan is Iranian. The Pahlavi word devan originally meant “archive,” and an archive included rolls of documents, bundles of written sheets, and collections of law, poetry, records, etcetera. The place where they were kept was also called devan, and the name also extended to the courts, where such records were also maintained. This is how the word went into Armenian as tivan (դիւան, pronounced divan in Classical Armenian), which meant “hall,” “court of justice,” “school,” and “archive,” in the Bible and among writers of the fifth century like Goriun and Movses Khorenatsi. The same word was also used, much later, with the meaning “collection of poems.”

The Armenian language did not content itself by borrowing tivan, but also created compound words like tivanabed (դիւանապետ “chief of the archive, chancellor”).

Now, Middle Eastern council chambers and courts had long cushioned seats along their walls, which by extension were called divan, and the word entered various languages (Russian, French, Spanish, and English) with that meaning. It also entered Armenian.

What is the relation between a diplomat and a couch? The fact is that the word “diplomacy” was translated into Armenian as tivanakidootioon (դիւանագիտութիւն), which literally means “science of the archives/office” (tivan = archive/office, kidootioon = science) and a diplomat, be it an ambassador, a consul or a chargé of affairs, is first of all a tivanaked (դիւանագէտ). As such, the word by definition shows him or her not only as knowledgeable on archives and offices, but also... on couches, particularly those called divan /դիւան...

There Are Two Ways to Finish

You are playing a chess game. Suddenly, a breakthrough happens and in a couple of movements, you checkmate your opponent! You let people around you know:

“I finished /ended the game.”

Or,

“The game is finished /ended.”

In any case, you use the same verb “finish,” either in active (you finished/ended) or in passive (is finished/ended) voice. However, as we have seen once and again, what works for English does not necessarily work in the same way for Armenian.

When Armenian verbs go from active to passive voice, the verb itself changes. We say, for instance, “He broke the glass” (An abageen godrets –Ան ապակին կոտրեց), but when the cause is unclear, we may say “The glass was broken” (Abageen godrvetsav – Ապակին կոտրուեցաւ). We have two verbs, godrel (կոտրել) and godrveel (կոտրուիլ).

The same happens with “to finish.” If I finished the game, it is:

Yes khaghe verchatsootsi (Ես խաղը վերջացուցի).

If the game was finished, then it is:

Khaghe verchatsav (Խաղը վերջացաւ).

You can never say Yes khaghe verchatsa (Ես խաղը վերջացայ). That would mean “The game is... that you are finished!”

The Cousin of the Candle

You may have often lit candles during Christmas and New Year celebrations, and you perhaps know that its name in Armenian is mom (մոմ), a word that comes from the fifth century (borrowed from Pahlavi, one of the languages spoken in Iran) and actually meant “wax.”

The source of candle (Old English candel "lamp, lantern, candle") is the Latin word candela ("a light, torch, candle made of tallow or wax"), which comes from the verb candere ("to shine"). There is nothing strange: a dozen or so languages have borrowed the same word candela, from French chandelle (here one is reminded of English chandelier) to Turkish qandil.

However, there is an Armenian word much closer to English candle: gantegh (կանթեղ). In ancient times, it designated a candle, an oil lamp, or a torch. It existed in the fifth century, and it was used by writers like Koriun, the disciple of Mesrob Mashdots; Agatangeghos, the mysterious author of the account on the conversion of Armenia to Christianity; and Ghazar Parbetsi, the historian of the post-Avarayr period. At the time, it was pronounced kantheł (th as in Thomas, while the ł represented a sound between a l and a gh, which has disappeared today), closer to its current pronunciation in Eastern Armenian (kanthegh).

Latin was also the source for Classical Greek, where the word became kandḗlē (κανδήλη) and became the source for Classical Armenian gantegh. In this case, the Greek delta (δ) became the Armenian to (թ); otherwise, if the source had been Latin, the Latin d would have been ta (դ).

In conclusion, a candle and a gantegh are second cousins. The meaning of the Armenian word, however, has changed. We do not think of it when we light a candle or a torch (chah / ջահ), but when we turn on a lamp or a chandelier. For instance, Loosavorichi ganteghe (Լուսաւորչի կանթեղը) is the “lamp without cord” that St. Gregory the Illuminator hung from the sky to protect the Armenian world in times of darkness. Famous poets like Hovhannes Toumanian and Vahan Tekeyan wrote about it.