READ SOME TEXTS IN VEHEVIONIAN

What happens to a dream deferred? 
Does it dry up 
Like a raisin in the sun? 
Or fester like a sore—
And then run? 
Does it stink like rotten meat? 
Or crust and sugar over—
ike a syrupy sweet? 
Maybe it just sags like a heavy load. 
Or does it explode?

DREAM DEFERRED — LANGSTON HUGHES

If — Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginning,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And—which is more—you'll be a Man, my son!

Invictus — William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.

TRANSLATION: Dream deferred

Que bobavaievet to al zemnyya mekochaietecinet?Rebonetet go
Koto a regova vu te solas?
Erre kresehat koto a byoli—
Ve is’se assetet?
Hishaxka koto azhastrayalva myosa?
Erre gassaxaevet ve spivahat moné—
koto a supele siva?
Yozhihi lo uagaya’evet
koto a thozho vo’od.
Erre papaloaitet?

TRANSLATION: IF

Tie hippenetei nel fanna dis wika laru ne,
Zannaezabaetent ezels ve kazannéttent nyn ahn ne;
Tie pui ne neyes roveroteoi dis wia sets gutsoneretent ne,
Amma geoteoi annolle beus ezel gutsoneretevic yau:
Tie pui chakkenosshai ve ne kavahai én ummikevevicen io chakkenosshevic,
Erre lyuzhete allis uluk, non aosye vu lyusses,
Erre oortaiaeve allis non titunere to oortaiaevevic,
Ve nênê non v’se schae gea, nuerre opalle schae sinniqqo;

Tie zemnyaevei pui–ve non geo zemnyas nel uucinia;
Tie ianotevei pui–ve non geo inoxkans nel dêkeme,
Tie contonocretei pui cive Vixine ve Imbuuntique
Ve hyumbelê’ete tos di kalavénékyos samoe te slyuy:
Tie aquequé’hénaetei pui kilavete te kid ta tiddieteien
Nvingétsetecinet io néeves geoteo al uw’n beus kuluisets,
Erre gereyoho te efts hametein nel liette to, kutsnetevicen,
Ve yustoupetei ve geateoi eze cive szonwize aveks;

Tie geoteoi pui uni zisse té wykkilisiq nel spechases
Ve csanehai nyn ahn uni ngongae té géessoesste,
Ve zagutonoshai, ve ellaidevei pakke ite nel ellais
Ve nito haehaehai a mudze uluk nel zäzäe:
Tie puknuttehai pui nel omuda ve wälle ve tyukniese
Wukulununhe nel ngongae alle sei kavahant täwé,
Ve nu doxie dis tia vi xicron eft vu ne
Nyesamme te Kvulene qute dinievet to eze: “Doxie!”

Tie opalletei pui cive vepsels ve hippenetei nel hnain,
Erre makaevei cive Güldäls–nuerre zaguutonoshai te manne kavyut,
Tie noniekke nemenis nuerre aevevice luzhes dollevent pui ne,
Tie wykkilisiq sets numerevent cive ne, amma nuine schae cevit: Tie plunievei pui te finuitetevice minute
Cive seusedue tiseqondes’se k’hqove té moisene assetevicen,
Nev vi te Hoûme ve veniqensenwike ta vi vu nyn,
Ve–qute vi vesille–kavahaié a Set, mil oen!