Found this in the margins of a medieval manuscript.
This is a very charming illustration and I do approve of Accidental Latin, but unfortunately, that is not what this (Fake) Accidental Latin actually says. Google Translate seems to think “temu” is identical to “timor” (infinitive, “to fear”), which would then be conjugated in first-person singular as “timeo” (“I fear”). “Temu” is not a word in Latin. So that is a very weird leap on Google Translate’s part to turn gibberish into… something vaguely etymologically similar sounding? Hmm.
Next, “die” does mean “day,” though nominative singular is “dies,” i.e. “dies irae.” It could be conjugated “die” if it was in ablative or locative case, but “die ad die” would mean something more like “day to day.” “Ad” is in a “to” direction and “ab” is from, i.e. “ab urbis,” and ablative case is used to indicate the movement of a thing. In short, “by” is not really a way to translate “ad”; we might want “per” here? (Through, by means of, etc.)
Not to mention, it would be weird to put one “die” at the start and another at the end The verb also usually goes at the end in Latin sentences, just for that extra bit of fun. So yes, in short, this is not actually Latin, and Google Translate is very bad at Latin in particular. Nonetheless, still charming.
Agree, @qqueenofhades, except on the matter of breaking “die ad die” apart. It’s a common structure in poetic and oratorical Latin to jam one phrase in the middle of another. I can’t think of an example exactly parallel to this construction, but I could believe a Roman poet would write it!
Ah, that is true. My Latin is of the reading-medieval-documents (particularly charters and/or chronicles) variety, where the sentence and usage structures are often more formulaic and there is less poetic license to move words around. There is obviously far less fixity for word order in Latin, since the conjugations explain how they grammatically relate to each other rather than placement in the sentence. (Coincidentally, this is why I used to say that the best feeling in the world was walking past a Latin classroom and not having to go inside it. Ahem.)
So yes: true that poetical Latin might be more at liberty to split the “die”-s up that far, though “timeo” (verb) is still more likely in most cases to go at the end, which would place them together anyway (“die ad die timeo,” “day to day I fear” if translated in strict word order, which would make sense to an English speaker and sound more poetic anyway). Keep in mind, however, that my Latin is a) fairly rusty and b) mostly used for said formulaic legal document reading rather than freeform verse, so don’t super-hard quote me on this.
I saw that ablative “die” and that final -u on “temu” and thought of the ablative supine (as in “mirabile dictu”) but as you observe, there isn’t a verb that “temu” could be, and then also, the ablative supine requires an adjective, as far as I know.
But perhaps “temu” is a hapax legomenon (in which case we would need the rest of the text to gloss it) or a scribal error for temeratu, from temero, “I defile or disgrace”. In that case, and in true Tumblr form, I might translate it as “daily I disgrace, in the manner of the day”, with some errors attributable to the scribe.
….oh my god. You might be a genius. Because what else does Tumblr do but daily disgrace [itself, oneself, and/or numerous others] in the manner of the day, and make numerous scribal errors.
