LIETUVIŲ KALBOTYROS KLAUSIMAI, II LIETUVOS TSR MOKSLŲ AKADEMIJA

SOME FEATURES OF THE ZIETELA DIALECT

A. VIDUGIRIS

In 1957, several texts in the Zietela dialect (in southwestern Belarusian SSR) were recorded using a portable tape recorder; the dialect has now almost completely disappeared. On the basis of these texts, some of the more important phonetic and morphological features of the dialect are described here, and a glossary of little-known words and borrowings found in the texts is provided.

The vocalism and consonantism of the Zietela dialect have features that, on the one hand, link it with the southwestern Aukštaitians and, on the other, with the Dzūkai and eastern Aukštaitians. The dialect’s morphology has preserved a considerable number of archaic features: all four locative cases, possessive pronouns, and athematic verbs are used. Notable features include the third-person singular preterite of the verb “to be,” bit(i) (“was”), the prepositions sa, pie, adverb formation, and so on.

The dialect shows marked Slavic influence, especially in its phonetics and lexicon. Since Lithuanian is no longer a living language in Zietela, the dialect material contains many variations and inconsistencies.

In the Zietela district of Grodno Region, Belarusian SSR (pronounced Zietela, Zi'tela; Belarusian Дзятлово, Дятлово, 1. Zdzęcioł), there are two villages where elderly people who know and speak Lithuanian can be found. This Lithuanian-language island, situated 80 km south of the Lithuanian SSR border (about 150 km from Vilnius, about 50 km from Lida, and about 20 km beyond the Nemunas), is one of the most distant Lithuanian-speaking areas known to date outside our republic. Some linguists and historians regard it as one of the witnesses to the old Baltic ethnographic territory. Lithuanian-speaking localities lie 60–80 km north of this island, for example, the areas around Laz(d)ūnai and Daunoriai (Jūrotiškiai district),¹ Ramaškonys, Dainava, Bastūnai, and Varanavas (Varanavas district), and Žirmūnai, Kazokiškės, Pamedė, Užubaliai, Pelesė, and Ródūnė (Ródūnė district).

For convenience and by tradition, this Lithuanian-language island is named after the district center—the Zietela dialect, although in fact Lithuanian-speaking people now live only on the northern outskirts of Zietela—in Zasečiai (pronounced Zasėčai (perhaps from Ząsedžiai), Zosečai, Zasiėčai, Zasėčai, Zasiėtė; Belarusian Засеме) (3 km to the north) and

¹ Cf. J. Senkus, “Some Features of the Lazūnai Dialect,” — *Proceedings of the Academy of Sciences of the Lithuanian SSR*, Series A, 1, 180–193, Vilnius, 1958.

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in the villages of Pagirių (pronounced Pagìrai, Pagìrai, Pagirìs, Belarusian По́гиры) (8 km to the north). According to what people say, formerly—that is, before and during the First World War—five villages, or perhaps more, spoke Lithuanian, namely: Zasečiai, Pagiriai, Narčiai (pronounced Narčai, Narčāl, Belarusian Но́рцевичи), Kurpėšai (pronounced Kùrpėšai, Kùrpėšos, Belarusian Ку́рпеши), Dainava (pronounced Dainavà, Dainuvà, Belarusian Яцвезь, Ятмезь, Polish Jacwieź), and others.

In the 1580 inventories of the Zietela manor, E. Volter found Lithuanian place-names not only in the villages mentioned earlier, but also in Zietela itself, Strėla (pronounced Strėlà, Belarusian Стрела) (9 km west of Zietela), Aleknavičiai (pronounced Alėknavičai, Alėchnovaičai, Belarusian Оле́хновичи), and elsewhere. According to statistics from 1886, there were still 1,156 Lithuanians here.2

After visiting the area in 1906, Prof. K. Būga noted that it was possible to converse in Lithuanian only in Zasečiai, which had 400 inhabitants; an equal number, though no longer speaking Lithuanian, still understood much of the language. At that time, more than a hundred people still spoke Lithuanian in the villages of Pagiriai and Narčiai.3

When A. Valaitis visited in 1933, he found that 31 families in Zasečiai still spoke Lithuanian among themselves (and with their children)—95 adults and 25 children—and that in 80 families the older people spoke Lithuanian while the young spoke mostly Belarusian (245 adults and 175 young people); however, the remaining 67 families (309 people) no longer spoke Lithuanian. The last woman who knew Lithuanian died in Narčiai in 1929, while only two elderly people spoke Lithuanian in Pagiriai. There were also Lithuanian speakers at the Žybartaučinos manor (Lithuanian Žìbartaušcina, Belarusian Жыбортовщина, Polish Żybartowszczyzna) (1 km north of Zietela), but the Lithuanian language had long since disappeared from Girninkai (pronounced Gìrni·kai, Belarusian Гирники, Polish Hirniki), Vėzaučius (pronounced Vezáučus, Vezáučis, Vezáučai, Jezáučis, Belarusian Безаеві, Езобей, Polish Wieżowiec) (7–8 km southwest of Zietela), Giedgalai (pronounced Giėdgalai, Giedgalāl, Giegzālai, Belarusian Гезголы), and elsewhere.4

At present, most of those who know and speak Lithuanian live in the village of Zasečiai (about 30 people, not counting those who understand Lithuanian, of whom there are three times as many; only about 12–15 suitable informants for recording the dialect have been found).

There are two sisters from the village of Pagiriai who speak Lithuanian well, and a greater number could be counted who speak or understand it less well. At present, one woman from Pagiriai, namely P. Chaleckienė-Dicevičiūtė (aged 94), lives in Zietela, while her sister M. Vasiukevičienė-Dicevičiūtė (aged 82) lives in the village of Rybokai (6 km east of Zietela). There are several elderly people in the village of Narčiai who understand Lithuanian but speak it with difficulty, so they are of very little use for recording the dialect.

According to local people, the strongest contribution to the decline of the Lithuanian language here was made by the policy of banning and denigrating Lithuanian, pursued during the Polish occupation

2 E. Wolter, Die Litauer im Kreise Slonim Gouv. Grodno. — „Mitteilungen der Litauischen litterarischen Gesellschaft“, 4, 166—169, Heidelberg, 1899.

3 K. Būga, Lietuvos rytų saloje. — „Lietuvos ūkininkas“, Nr. 41, 498—500, Vilnius, 1906.

4 A. Valaitis, A. Mickevičiaus gimtųjų vietų lietuviai (apie Zasečių—Zytelos lietuvius). — „Lietuvos Aidas“, Nr. 209, 3, Vilnius, 1938.

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campaign. Economic conditions also had a considerable impact: during the land reform (1932—1939), all the strongest Lithuanian families in Zasečiai were first resettled on individual farmsteads; a considerable number of Lithuanians emigrated and perished during World War II, while another group registered as Poles in the postwar years and moved to Poland. Most speakers of the dialect are over 60 years old, and there are only a few younger ones. Thus, the Lithuanian language on this island is living out its final days.

While gathering material for the atlas of Lithuanian dialects, interest also turned to the study of rapidly disappearing Lithuanian dialects beyond the administrative border of our republic, such as those of Ąpsas (Brėslava and Vydžiai districts), the environs of Kamajai and Lenčupis (Pastovys and Svyrai districts), the environs of Gervėčiai and Rimdžiūnai (Aštravas district), Ažierkai village (Grodno district), and the districts mentioned earlier. Since about 1950, linguists, folklorists, and ethnographers from the republic have visited these islands for research. For example, as many as four expeditions visited Zietela alone, not counting the trips made by several individual linguists. The most notable was the dialectological-folklore expedition organized in 1955 by the Institute of the Lithuanian Language and Literature, during which a considerable number of texts were recorded on tape. Although the Institute of the Lithuanian Language and Literature and individual linguists have already accumulated a good deal of material on this dialect, apart from P. Arumaa’s texts, published in Estonia, and Ch. Stang’s brief description of the dialect, printed in Norway,⁵ nothing has so far been published in Lithuania.

This Lithuanian-language island, which has survived in the environs of Zietela since ancient times, together with other Lithuanian-language islands in similar circumstances, is a highly valuable resource for the study of the Lithuanian language, owing to its archaic morphological forms, distinctive word-formation methods, distinctive vocabulary, and other features.

Here are two accounts of everyday life, recorded in 1957 on a portable tape recorder from the finest speakers of the Zietela dialect: Marijona Burokienė from Zasečiai and Petronėlė Chaleckienė from Pagiriai.

Marijona Burokienė-Glubokaitė, aged 68, was born and spent nearly her entire life in Zasečiai village. For several years she worked for Polish and Russian landowners; she visited Vilnius twice and, during World War I, had emigrated to the Russian interior to flee the front. She can speak and read Russian, Polish, and Lithuanian. In 1958 she moved to Poland.

Petronėlė Chaleckienė (Belarusian: Chaleckaja)-Dicevičiūtė, aged 94, was born and raised in Pagiriai village. She worked for Polish landowners for a long time in Zietela and Volkovysk. Of all the people of Pagiriai, she speaks Lithuanian the most beautifully. She loves to tell stories. She lives in Zietela.

In attempting to characterize the dialect, one must first note the great inconsistency and diversity among those who speak it. Since the local Belarusian dialect is used in most areas of life, while Lithuanian is spoken only occasionally among old neighbors, relatives, and one or another family member, many speakers of the dialect have lost their command of correct Lithuanian

⁵ P. Arūmaa, Litauische mundartliche Texte aus Wilnaer Gegend, 41—53, 68—75, Dorpat, 1931; Chr. S. Stang, Die litauische Mundart von Zasečiai im Gebiet von Wilna. — „Norsk Tidsskrift for Sprogvidenskap“, Bind XVIII, 171—201.

14. Kalbotyros klausimai II.

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feeling. As a result, the speech of one person often differs from that of another, and many variations and inconsistencies also occur in the speech of one and the same dialect speaker. For example, the same word is sometimes stressed differently: nėkaltas || nekaltas, paršą || paršai, pigùs || pìgus, vištõs || vištos, dirba || dirba, blì’nus || blì’nus; gender is mixed: duonas || duona, bunõdai || kunõdos (potatoes), asmõ-kai || asmõkos (money), bažnìčiai || bažnìčos, uògai || uògos, seserã || sėserės, etc.

Sometimes, because of such variation (as well as the frequent influence of Slavic-language elements), it is even difficult to determine the dialect’s normative phoneme or form. However, the variations found in speech for one reason or another are not regular in nature and do not negate the existence of the Zietela dialect as a system or its independence. Here are some of its features, a considerable number of which can be found in the texts printed below.

Vocalism. The so-called nasal sounds of the standard language ^ą, ę and the sound sequences am, an, em, en are rendered as u· (ų, ū), i· (į, y), and um, un, im, in: grãštas, žã’sės, katrã, gálva, tē·sa (pulls, draws), ište·zdinēja (pulls out, absorbs), sēmti, švērite, ramīti, ramītis (walking stick), tāmus, sām’tis, inkāndo, rankos, penkos, tankų. On this basis, this dialect would be assigned to the Southern Western Aukštaitian dialect. In other respects, however, the Zietela dialect differs from the Western Aukštaitian dialect. For example, unlike in the standard language, the comparative degree of adjectives is stressed on the higher syllable here: senēnis, senēsne, gražāsnis, gražāsne, didēsnis, didēsne, as are short-stem infinitives: kāst(i), nēšt(i), vēšt(i), vēst(i), rāst(i).

The standard-language sounds o and ė are often diphthongized in the dialect as uo and ie (more often uo, ie): žuõdžis, nùori, kūoja, šuõka, bruolìkas, žmùoriej, jiẽme, daržìne, turìej, adbìegdau. However, this diphthongization is not consistent: often one and the same dialect speaker clearly diphthongizes a sound on one occasion, but on another pronounces it without diphthongization or diphthongizes it very indistinctly. Therefore, this feature is marked in the texts only in its more pronounced instances.

In place of standard-language o, the diphthong ou. occurs. However, this phenomenon is observable in only two words and forms derived from them: touli~toli, toulesi (farther), soudì·~sodint, pasoudināu, alongside tolì, sodì·.

Elsewhere, unstressed o is occasionally shortened and pronounced as u, e.g.: buhāi, tuhāi (used in the singular), kuplōnas (priest), kudēl~kodėl.

Standard-language e at the beginning of a word corresponds to dialect a: agùne, ažaras, āna, aš’s, apušė. In various positions, standard-language e irregularly broadens (most often pronounced long), acquiring an a-like quality (marked a)⁸: nēša, mās, mētai, kumāle, gēra~geria, sōrmēlis, velēšnis, blogēsne, nesidāle~nesidalė, kāte’.

⁶ The transcription used is simplified. For the sounds a and e, the pitch-accent mark also indicates their length. Unstressed long vowels are marked with a dot above, to the left of the letter. This rule does not apply to the sounds i and u, whose length is marked everywhere, regardless of stress. The length of the inherently long sounds o and ė is not marked anywhere. Uppercase letters are used. The pitch accents of long vowels are marked by ear.

⁷ Sometimes a· (ą) and a become the diphthong ai: pagelāisk~pagaląsk, kāinis~kąsnis, inkāisk (take a bite), dail’tis~dalytis, dail’ba.

⁸ This sound does not occur in the speech of all dialect speakers. For example, P. Chaleckienė pronounces all instances of e considerably more narrowly than the normal e (geras, senas), but this feature of her speech, which probably arose under the influence of Polish, is not reflected in the transcription of the texts.

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Very often, the Lithuanian standard-language sound u in the prefix and preposition už changes to i: iżno-rėj~užnorėjo ‘wanted to’, iż maṅd, iżbko~užšoko ‘jumped over’, iżvilko~užvilko ‘dragged away’. Similarly, standard-language u corresponds to dialect i in these roots: žbIves alongside žbIves~žuvys ‘fish’, liežlvis, brb-val ‘eyebrows’.

The pure diphthongs ie, uo, owing to strong emphasis on their first element, very often become the monophthongs i˙ (y), u˙ (ū): ži˙mà, ni˙ko, vī˙nas, di˙nà, šū˙, sesū˙, di˙k, važi˙kim, jū˙das, ku˙dėlis, pūnùs, li˙tus, Paži˙telai (name of a meadow)⁹. Most often, these diphthongs are pronounced with only their second element weakened: di˙ėdas, di˙ona, si˙olas. There are cases in which it is not the second but the first element of these diphthongs that is weakened, e.g.: vienà, dė˙na, pagrėbs, nesamelos, pardòs, jū˙das, Jōda (surname). The same words are also pronounced alternately with entirely intact diphthongs uo, ie.

In some words, the diphthong ie occurs instead of standard-language ei: sviekas~sveikas ‘healthy’, viekāũ (quickly), viekėst (more quickly), nāi_viekėst (fastest). But very often ē, e, or i also occur instead of ie: svēkas, vekāũ, vekāũ, alongside vikāũ, vikėst. There is no doubt that people’s bilingualism is largely responsible for this variation in pronunciation.

In the dialect, the first element of the diphthong au, whether stressed or unstressed and bearing the circumflex accent, is pronounced very darkly, with a more or less distinct o coloring; it is therefore transcribed āũ: lāũkas, jēmāũ, kāũlė. The first element of the diphthong ai in the same position is also darkened (gerai || gerēi, mažai), but this feature is not marked in the texts.

Consonantism. Although the dialect is the southernmost, it differs from the nearest other Lithuanian-speaking localities (Laz(d)ūnai, Varanāvas, Ródūnė, Aziėrku, etc.) chiefly in that the principal feature of dzūkavimas is not found here; for example, people say: pati, marti, dvi, dvidešim, gaidīs, ti˙sà, di˙nà, bū˙t, dirbt, dirp-čia, gaidžai, medžas. Only the failure to convert the sound sequences tj, dj into the affricates č, dž at the ends of words—for example, pametėu, samdēu, āudēu, bū˙u; gaidō, žōdo, dančiu (and dančī), gaidū—aligns the dialect with the Dzūkian and neighboring Eastern Aukštaitian dialects.

In a few examples, the dialect has the sound z instead of standard-language ž: zā˙sēs~žąsys ‘geese’, zvēris, zvaiždė~žvaigždė ‘star’, zi˙mà, bazni˙ča, zbuvis, zēmė, zāmė, alongside žvaiždė, žiemà, žbIvis, žāmė.

The consonants l, r, s, š, ž and the affricates č, dž are very often hardened before the vowels e, ė, i¹⁰: kāũlė, kumėlė, kalbėk, lantā, langvas, stalālis, išblindo, turēji, rėkė, rūkko, nuvažiāũ, šašī, trācas, žbūnom, gražāšnis, medžas; but one also hears: lēadas, velēsnis, kilbė, gražī, zi˙mà, norēji, reikā, svēčas, svečīosna, āudžam.

The consonants k, g are not pronounced before the sound sequences š, ž + i, d, č: šāuštas, āũštas, pērni˙šč(a)s, vakarī˙ščā, nu˙naini˙ščā (today), ru˙štus, ri˙štė, žvi˙rždas (sand), žvaiždė, splī˙snos (feathers); but they are sometimes retained in compound words: anškri˙tas (morning), aikšen and aišen (rare).

⁹ The diphthongs ie, uo, when they become the monophthongs i˙, u˙, are sometimes shortened, e.g.: li˙tukas~lietukas, jim(i)~jiems, jis~juos, sa jū~su juo.

¹⁰ When hardened before the front vowels e, ė, i, the consonants darken them and bring them closer to back vowels. The retracted i is transcribed as bl, and e, ė as ę.

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Before words beginning with vowels, consonants h, v, j are sometimes added. The consonant h is especially common: hāra~aria, hartojas, hāust(i), hail(i)~eiti (he/she goes), hānas~anas (he), hūpe~upė, hūogos, hobuolai¹¹. Consonants v and j are added less often: vūpė, vūogos, vobuolai, vū.li.ča, vū.tarina¹², jīr, jēmė, jāni's (they), janā (she).

Sometimes certain consonants (e.g., k, t, g) are also added at the ends of words: tiktalk, tadatk, kadatk, pērnaik, sēnaik, gražast (more beautiful), dāugāist || dāugēst (often), tsāik (that one), gig (indeed).

As in our other dialects, consonant assimilation is also common in the Zietela dialect: that is, voiceless consonants become voiced when they occur before voiced consonants, while voiced consonants become voiceless before voiceless ones (even when these adjacent sounds belong to separate words), e.g.: áž_gi, māž_jāu, kāb_gi, jālb_dutkė, mānaz_is, trizdėšim, dirpk, išōko~užšoko.

Word formation. A characteristic nominal suffix of the dialect worth mentioning is -i̯ka (pronounced -b̯i·ka)¹³, which has an affectionate or diminutive meaning, and sometimes a pejorative one: avbi·ka (sheep), karubī·ka, k̄aulbi·ka, kumelbi·ka, mergaitbi·ka. The diminutive suffix -utas is also productive: vilkutas, kiškutas, langutas.

The suffix -ikas, which has an affectionate, diminutive meaning, is very common in personal names: Valērikas (Valerijus), Bernādikas (Bernardas, Bernardukas), Jūzikas (Juozukas), Kōstikas (Kostas, Kastukas), Rīzikas (Ričardukas), Jānikas (Jonukas). It seems that it began to be added to proper names following the Polish model.

The characteristic adjective suffix is -īkas, -ītka, also used with a diminutive, affectionate meaning: mācitkas, macitka (small, tiny), gražitkas, gražitka, sēnitkas, senitka, aušitkas (very tall), aušitka, macintūlitka (very tiny).

Frequentative verbs with the suffix -(d)inėti are very common in the dialect. However, in meaning and use these frequentative verbs do not have an iterative sense: I wanted to shop (to buy) kā· sajėst; I_jāu kept giving (gave) jām vūlgīt (to have lunch). But they occur even more often with prefixes: sa_tavip (with you) I_want to get together well; they keep meeting tā· žmōgu· vēl; the dogs kept sniffing out ita· mēšla. Verb formation with the prefix pa- is highly productive. The prefix pa- is also added to prefixed verb forms, e.g.: ānas papriadīnēj pri-g_ito ārklo; kokā (some kind of) pašmezdenėj krū·pa· iš_pirkōs.

Prefixes of Slavic origin are common: ras-, pad-, da-; rasidailēm (we shared); aš_nuvėjāu sa_bernuķu pēdūs rastat'i'dinēt (to arrange); padkaldinēj (forged) and_jāučus, kab_važbņē; vienāi kūlbei pādrēmāu medžā; niēks nedapādēma (does not help); iti· linai jāu tū· nedavī's.

Inflection. The masculine singular dative, instead of the standard Lithuanian -(i)ui, has the ending -(i)u: nī·ko neū.tari·k tām žmōgu; vaiku itai gerai; adāu šūnu. In fixed prepositional forms, the old i-stem ending has also been preserved-

¹¹Sometimes the reverse phenomenon is also observed, especially when Slavic loanwords are adapted to Lithuanian: aspadōrus, aspadbōnė, ū.tari·t.

¹²Uncertain vowel lengths, found mostly in words of Slavic origin, are marked as half-long: vū.li·ča, ū.tari·t.

¹³Sometimes the suffixal sound -b̯- (y) is pronounced with a -u̯- quality.

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The singular dative ending of nouns [cut-off word] is -i: tik pačam teluki melžėsi; duž adi’nį dar lig „vakarį¹⁴.

The feminine singular instrumental has the ending -(i)ai: sa_gi-nai savai pačai būsta; nakčai; tai parai (at that time); anas sa_jai bīt. It is thought that this ending is a remnant of pronominal adjectives¹⁵; its survival and spread to other parts of speech may have been aided by the Slavic ending -oŭ in the same case, cf.: с одной своей женой живет; он с ней был.

This ending differs from the singular dative only in its accent (of course, if stressed): dū’noi, kab jai būs gerast (better); dūk tai mergai; kūkai~kokiai, tukai~tokiai.

Four locative cases are used:

a) The interior present locative (inessivus) often drops the ending e: bi-vom mės drūgelį; vi’nōj vesej; pasiškope (hid) rūguos. The plural locative (inessivus) of feminine, and sometimes masculine, nouns of various stems has the ending -sa: tep kab mano ausi’sa; aki’sa; dvijosa; višta sėdi kàrtėsa; anas atait ir_klaūsa vaikuosa pōterus ar_mōka.

b) The interior allative (illativus): ānas nuvažāų kelan; sakrovė vežimai; mažā ājo akmenīn (to the millstones); išėjāų svečiuosna; katrān kraštān iżnōri, tanā (to that) kraštān ir_vežuoja; aimā ir_mės ri’tōi grī’bu’sna. It should also be noted that in the Zietela dialect the temporal illative is very frequently found instead of the 1st inessive or the accusative: atvažāų subatōn; nedēlon bit ānas mū’sim; nu’nait šaštōn adi-non atvažuos.

c) The exterior present locative (adessivus): kur bū’sti (live) ar_Kaškaip (at Kaška) ar_Šaipukip (at Šaipukas)?; mani’m(p) (at my place) jāū vaiku’bit; dārgi mu’sip (at our place) there is nothing, mu’sim(p) asnoku’ nėra; jaib (at her place) dukte bit graži; vi’nam žmōgip bit chwaras (unwell) su’nūs.

d) The exterior allative (allativus): āš nuvežiāų namōp¹⁶ (to the house); Gaidelōp aimū (to Gaidelis — a surname); kokā (some kind of) pribēga mu’sūn, paišmeždi-nē! krū’pa. This latter locative is used less frequently in the Zietela dialect than, for example, in Lazūnai.

Very often, feminine o-, ē-, and i-stem nouns have the same plural dative and instrumental ending, -mi: kviečūs kūū-lēmi māla; ar_dāū mergōmi jēst; vaikas jāū vaišōi kōjemi (with the legs); sa_ku-nōdomi gardēst kap sa_kuōpomi.

The plural dative of a-stem nouns has probably also been adapted on the basis of these stems: atnē’ vėl vaikāmi jēst; diōk dārba vi’rami žtūmi.

¹⁴ Cf. J. Endzelins, Latviešu valodas gramatika, 428—432, Rīgā, 1951; J. Otrębski, Gramatyka języka litewskiego, 3, 40, Warszawa, 1956; J. Kazlauskas, Lietuvių kalbos daiktavardžių priebalsinio linksniavimo tipo nykimas. — „Kai kurie lietuvių kalbos gramatikos klausimai“, 7—8, Vilnius, 1957.

¹⁵ See P. Arumaa, cited work, 70—71; Z. Zinkevičius, Lietuvių kalbos įvardžiuotinių būdvardžių istorijos bruožai, 100, Vilnius, 1957.

¹⁶ The accent of the allative ending -op varies. Three accent patterns of this ending should be noted: namōp || namōp || namōp.

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In the pronominal system, the very lively use of possessive pronouns is worth mentioning: mānas, manā, tāvas, tavā, sāvas, savā, of which nearly all the cases have been preserved. Only occasionally is the generalized genitive singular of these pronouns used. The demonstrative pronoun has retained some pronominal forms: tōji moteriškis, tōji girā, tōji pirkē. The masculine singular accusative forms should probably also be included here: tsai(k) žmogus, ītsai(k) vaikas.

Several athematic verbs have been preserved: mī-kt(i), āi(i), skāust(i), jēst(i), dāst(i), dūost(i), giest(i). But contaminated forms are also used alongside them: giema, āima, miēgma, (i)ēma, dēma, dūoma ir dūoja.

The third-person singular past tense of verbs with the infinitive suffixes -uoti, -oti, -ėti more often has shorter forms: subatōn vākarn izvažāu Li-dōn; jām nēdāų sōtku (ploughs); mānas brōlis nūmirē, neišturēi; vilnu sūlais pārizdinēi pirštus; iš pirkōs nešō daržinēn.

Sometimes (very rarely), the third-person present tense also has shorter forms: āni's važiuoj jau namōp; kāp po bāla' braidžoi, pašunta špāros (the spaces between the fingers).

The third-person singular past tense of the verb “to be,” biti, bit (“was”)¹⁷, is striking: karvės mūsu bit dvi; jai gi sunku labai bit; viso bit, ot viso bit; do visa gražu bit, do visa gerai bit; biti didas sa bobai.

In the first person of the future tense, the consonant s or š occurring before the ending -u is hard: neizbū'su, dīrpsu, norēsu, dū'su, nunēšu, vešū. In disyllabic verbs with short and circumflex intonation, the first and second persons of the future tense are stressed on the ending: aisū, aisṭ, nuvešū, nešṭ, atnešū, miršū, innesṭ, pirk-sū, pirkši.

The subjunctive mood is also distinctive: aš, tāu sakepčāu (I would have picked); kāb tū gi sadēktai; ot gerai bū'tu'p, kad tū atvažū'tumei; chōts (although) momā norētū'p, ka bū'čā, tai aš nenorėjau namie būt; mes dūotum jūmi viso, ag atvežū'tumet; mēs pīrktumem mu'sūm, tā pīrka.

Reflexive forms of the verb are noteworthy; for example, the reflexive particle -si is often placed at the end even of prefixed words: ateīmasi, prisegdinēsi. There are examples in which forms that are not, or are rarely, reflexive in standard Lithuanian are turned into reflexive forms: žū'rėjosi, bēginėjosi. It is especially noteworthy that, when this particle occurs at the ending, in some words it shifts the stress from the root onto itself: renkasi (gets ready, prepares), radosi, stojosi. Sometimes two reflexive particles are used in one and the same word: isiganādosi, pasižāninosi, prisrinkdinēsos.

Instead of the distinct standard-Lithuanian forms of the participle for both genders and numbers, and instead of the adverbial participle, mostly a single masculine plural participial form with the ending -mi is used:¹⁸ aš nuvejāu ten vergdamī (I went there crying); nugrūvo

¹⁷ The form bit is used in the writings of Bretkūnas and Ruigys; cf. A. Bezzenberger, Beiträge zur Geschichte der Litauischen Sprache, 206, Göttingen, 1877; bit was also used in southern Lithuanian East Prussia around the (eld River (umGoldap); see F. Kurschat, Grammatik der littauischen Sprache, 287, Halle, 1876; A. Schleicher, Handbuch der litauischen Sprache, 1, 252, Prag, 1856; see P. Arumaa, cited work, 69.

¹⁸ Katerina Žukelytė-Juodienė (about 68 years old), a former primary-school teacher in Zasėčiai, sometimes also says the form with the ending -mōs or -mā: ānas grūvo lēgdamos (and -mā).

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rãtas važiuodami (while traveling); mẽs tadãk kã˙ dumdami sãkoms; ãs „regėjãi kìški“ bėgdami (while running).

Past-tense active participles do not differ in gender or number; they have a single form ending in -e˙ (standard Lithuanian e): būvom mẽs draugẽlį dù brólų nesidalẽ˙ (not having shared); nelaukẽ˙ (without waiting) dãlei (further on) išėjãu; palìko žãidę (the radio set stopped playing); sesuo bùt atvažiãvę˙; pripùvę bùt kviečai (rotted, gone moldy).

Some adverbs are inflected as follows: sunkãi, sunkẽst, nai „sunkẽst; senãik, senẽst, nãi „senẽst, dãùg, dãùg(el)is, dãùgẽst, dãùgãust, nãi, dãugẽst, naidãugãusa (rare).

Instead of the literary-language preposition and prefix su-, sa- is used: sãdegė, satìkdinėja, viena sã „vaikù; sã „savaĩs vaikais bùt anã. This preposition (and prefix) also occurs in old written texts and in some dialects, especially in the former Lithuanian dialect of Prussia¹⁹.

Alongside the preposition and prefix už, iš is also used in the dialect, irregularly but very frequently: iš „ausės pakėlė; išnorėj, išžgiest(i), išžū.tarino, išli·skit, išjuóks ~ užsijuoks. The prefix až- is found in the texts only once: ažmirãu.

In the Zietela dialect, as in Lazūnai²⁰, the old preposition prie is still alive, used with various cases: mẽs sastójom prie jã˙; ãni's, prijunke˙ prie „sãvo (customs); mẽtė (her husband) and „atã| prie „bažnì˙čai; prie „Jacukus bùt užlenska gubernija, o prie „Novojelna“ — minska.

Syntax. Some prepositions are used with cases other than in standard Lithuanian, for example: kãrvė mẽlžėsi lik „pačam telúki; dvì adì·nì dar lig „vãkari (singular dative); atvažãvon jãù po „pusãu dienai; neìlga dar ãš iš „tavẽ (because of you) rodã buvãu; patì nubėgo an „uẽsės į „rẽką; trìs aspadòrai an „vieno árklo važinẽi.

This dialect also has a considerable amount of distinctive vocabulary. Alongside old Lithuanian words there are many borrowings from Slavic languages; therefore, a glossary of little-known words and loanwords found in the texts is provided below.

Texts

We were two brothers who lived together, undivided. Our parents had already died, and the two of us (the children) were already ten years old. We had already grown up and lived together, just the two of us, for ten years. And later, when I married, I already had children. I already had four children; but my brother had none of his own (children). We had lived together, undivided, for ten years; and later he wanted us to divide up, to separate. Because of him, we would have stayed just as we were. So my brother himself wanted it. We lived with the children, while he was without children; that was very difficult indeed. Well, he wanted to divide things up. For three years everything was being divided, divided, until it was all finally divided. But my husband did not want to divide things.

¹⁹ Cf. Bezzenberger, cited work, 246; A. Schleicher, cited work, 280; И. Эндзелинъ, Латышские предлоги, I, 196, Юрьевъ, 1905; J. Endzelīns, cited work, 569; J. Otrębski, cited work, 342.

²⁰ Cf. J. Senkus, cited work, 191.

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The two of them had no children, so she wanted them to live together, and then everything would be mine, so that I would be somewhere else. Later, she was thinking that she would already be better off alone. Well, I sat everyone down at my place and said, “Well, divide it up, divide it up; you won’t divide it otherwise, because you won’t accomplish anything.” You don’t want to work, so how will you manage by yourself? If it’s already impossible to bring anything in, impossible to bring anything together, nothing goes right for her, then she should go to her own place. They will be by themselves, and we will already be on our own (by ourselves); what can you do? Then I went to my parents’ home. My father explained everything to me. Here is our little shed. On this side stands the granary; the granary is still sound. The roof has already fallen in; it would have to be covered. I look, the rain is pouring down the wall, and I say to him, “Cover it, so it won’t rot.” It’s such a pity; the little building is so sound—the granary and the barn. I said, “Don’t cover it,” and it has already rotted like that. It’s very hard for us, and neither of the two covers it. I remind them again and again, the older ones don’t listen to me. I went to my parents’ home and said, “Do it this way and that, father; we have to work together now, so work together.” They say, “The rain is pouring down,” and my husband says, “Don’t listen; don’t cover it.” I said to him, “I went to your parents’ home, and I told your father this and that; now we have to work together.” He says, “The rain is pouring down.” I said, “Cover it, so it won’t rot.” Then she began saying, “What troubles, what sorrows will come to us; we’ll have to patch everything together, and there’s no need for us to do everything alone, because we have no children; we don’t need anything.” And so everything is hard. I told my parents this. My father said, “Let her divide things up; otherwise she won’t divide them. The older ones will agree, so that you won’t have to divide it; they won’t have anything to say about it... They’ll agree, they’ll agree, and then there won’t be any trouble for them; they’ll just be separated, and then they’ll go their own way, and you’ll have four children.” That’s how I stood my ground. I began working as one does every day; I ran short of manure for the flax, and so I had to gather flax. And she doesn’t bring anything. I ran short of that manure for the flax, so that every day, when I look, she’s gathering more and more flax stalks for herself, and preparing manure. I said, “How are you working?” And she said, “I’ll work the flax.” “Well,” I said, “I’m already working.” I don’t want you to. “Well, if you don’t want to, what can you do? Then,” I said, “work, but don’t spoil the manure.” I said, “If you don’t want to, since you told me to bake for you, then take these logs for yourself and bake it yourself.” “Don’t work so much, and I have already done a lot of work.” She did nothing. I took her manure pots and carried them to the little shed, saying, “Don’t spoil them; I’ve already told you, find your own.” And she brought me the baskets, the tubs, the legs, the threshing implements—well, what can you do? Oh, our men are out in the garden; it’s unbelievable that we’re buying something like this to thresh with. Later she struck me in the neck, then again, beat me, and ran off herself, screaming that I had struck her. She struck me in the neck and pushed me down, pushed me down, then went past me. Well, the men came running. I said, “She did this and that,” and I said it was true; if I had turned her over by that bundle, that log, I said, “You bake it yourself, with your own hands, those very same pans—why are you spoiling them so much?” If I did that, she would come and thresh me. Then, truly, I would have to go to jail. She ran away, screaming. Her husband was the only one who came running to help me; they had already grabbed hold of her, and she was already being beaten. She was already being beaten. She ran away from the men. If she hadn’t been there, then the girl would not have been beaten. No. She grabbed me by the collar, and the girl was already standing there. She was much younger, stronger. And so I had to be with her, since she had dragged me along. At last I said, “Now that she has already beaten me, I won’t let her do it again.”

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I grabbed a wooden slat from beneath, then pressed it against his head, and he fell; his blood was flowing. Then she came at me with a knife, and I defended myself. I couldn’t stand it any longer, so I hit him. I didn’t know—well, I said, “I won’t let you kill him, you wretch.” So I said to my own, “If you’re going to do that, then you’re the stronger one—go on, do it, and hit him; he is yours…” No, where are you going to divide things up? Well, divide them up. Neither of our men wanted to divide things up, neither one nor the other. We were then both in the same position. Well, if you want to do it this way, to divide things up, then go ahead and divide them, and I’ll take what I want, because you do want to divide things up, I said to those sisters-in-law. They were older than I was. She divided things up, while I counted. She was from one brother, and I was from the other, not from the same father. [Her husband was from one brother, and mine from another; such were they, but they had been living together without dividing things. Then she divided things up, while I counted. We divided everything up without help from anyone, without a person, without anything. There were just the two of us: she divided, and I counted. Each side made its own pile; here one (share) was piled up, and they said, “This will be for one, and this will be for the other”; whichever you wanted, that one you chose. This is a very good way to divide things. So, whichever I wanted, I counted. This way she divided, while I counted. And so we divided things up, and no one needed to be involved; nobody knew we were dividing things, because it was just the two of us, and our men didn’t know. We divided it between ourselves. Then we called the men. Our men came, and we told them we had already divided things up. I said this and that, and this and that. “Good,” they said, “that’s how it should be divided; that’s how it will be.” And so we divided it up. We had two cows, two cows. Well, whichever you wanted, that one you chose. She let the cow go to the field; later, she wanted it, while I didn’t want to divide things up, because I had children, and she had none. So she said, “Well, whichever you want, choose that one.” Her cow gave a lot of milk, while mine was the one that had suffered from illness, all the way since they were calves. For two weeks the calves were there, and then the calves would suckle at the udder. Mine was younger and bigger; it gave less milk, but it had been ill for a long time. I thought and thought: my children needed milk, and I needed milk, so that there would be cream. I took this cow and said, “This one will be mine.” Well, there were three cows; we sold the spare ones, to pay all the expenses, to settle everything, and then we divided these two. That’s how we divided things up. Our clothes were already old, the garden was already in bad shape, and they were already worse. Our sheep were quite large, and when we went to the store, we had them. Our fences were bigger already, because we were going to the store. We went and looked around and finally got things ready. She had already sold her things at the store, and the small building at the store, where ours still stands, was left behind. She bought her own, and then sold ours. Someone else was buying there; a certain man from Pinčiči came to buy. We had already thought and started to talk: ours were worth a lot, and we had no money. So we bought two sheep, and our mare was with its foal. We had to raise the foal so it would grow well, and raise these sheep; we had to raise everything and save money, and then we would set up a shop, look for a place, because it took a long time; while we were getting things together, we needed a place where they would sell the shop. So we went and asked how much it would cost. Our fifth part was the shop. So we would get by somehow. Then she said, “If you buy, we’ll give you three thousand zlotys cheaper.” And, at the store…

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We took them in one hand and tied them together, and then we made them. Our fingers were sore; we had already learned. Our fingers are all ours now. Anis had already let everything go. My sister was there, and we sat down like this to talk about the fire, then at dusk. And I said, ‘Let them live, so that it will be all right; when we bought those fingers, they would be ours.’ Now we’ll die, and then we’ll be; when we die, we’ll put up a coffin, and then we’ll be well. We lie down and sleep when it gets dark at night, then the fire burns there between our two fingers. It burned between our two fingers. We knew nothing. We worked there a little, because it was already warm, warm. Our wood came running up, and the peasants behind us were coming from the fingers. They took and lit our firewood. Our fingers burned. I was crying and saying, ‘My finger, I had only just found you at your mother’s, and now you’re burning.’ My brother’s wife herself said to my brother, ‘Wait, don’t cry, your finger is burning,’ and she cried because your wife had put on your clothes. Anis came there from somewhere, where they had gathered the milk, and whoever had set it alight. And those people sat down and said that Anis had set it alight, because he had already asked his own wife in the little room to take those fingers, so he had set them alight himself. Then she was looking around there. I had already arrived, I ran there and said, ‘God damn it, what are you doing? We have nothing,’ I said. And she laughed at me... I completely forgot; I had gone out. They got up and sat down. They sat for a while. And I was with the children. ‘You’re innocent of everything,’ she said, ‘my two ears, here, how can the horns be innocent?’ I thought I wouldn’t survive; it was hard for me here. I had already dug up the potato stalks, the children were digging them up, and I was also pulling up the stalks. ‘Do as you want, work, and for a whole month, every day, you were staying there in Novgorod, sitting there in that prison.’ And they had already found everything there, just as Anis had dug them up. They worked for me and taught the children. ‘Well, how could they find it, find it, if they hadn’t come across it? They still didn’t do anything, she passed by me.’ I heard all of it, that they had not done things properly; they had treated them that way. They didn’t do anything like that. And one match, in every hut, it caught fire like this, and the roof burned, and the beams burned too. So the man didn’t say anything, but his wife did, that it had caught fire. And he, as if he had recovered, said no. I myself heard that they were calling our women bad names: ‘She’s with me.’ When I first heard it, later I sat there in the garden. And then I listened, until I heard them. It was a long time playing, because everyone was playing there so that she wouldn’t be called..., so that she wouldn’t hear. Then, when they had finished playing, I heard how he was talking there. She said, ‘How can I tell him that I don’t know?’ It came out for me, and my finger was already burning, so I didn’t know about him either; I couldn’t say that it was him. Well, and so... How could they listen to me, so that you could go, so that nothing would happen there, so there would be no evidence, no way out; he didn’t do it that way, he couldn’t do it. And that was not true. When I went there working, ‘What are you doing?’ they said. ‘Sister, don’t cry and don’t be afraid, they won’t do anything to you at all.’ They won’t do anything at all, they said, so they were lying. ‘They won’t take you, they won’t press you, they won’t lie.’ I had a little girl, my little one, and she asked me not to cry, because I had been given such a hard time, because it had become very difficult for me. ‘Don’t cry,’ she said, ‘don’t cry, they won’t do anything.’ They said, ‘They won’t lie there; there are still such people there who don’t lie.’ True, they came. I went to the hospital, the mother was in hospital, there in the room, around here. Then she told me that the woodpile...

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There was already someone there with her. I went to another one; in just a few minutes she said, ‘Don’t cry, don’t get upset, be brave, because you’re going to die, but he’ll come along the road, along the road, and return home; nothing will happen to him,’ she said, ‘he’ll come along the road, he’ll come, he’ll go home.’ So I went home. When I went, I went with the little boy to look for the footprints, because it was summer and the night had been very stormy; it had rained hard, and everything had turned the footprints into mud. I went with the child, with the little boy. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘let’s put up the woodpile and the footprints, because the wind had turned everything over so much.’ We went, we put those footprints up, and we went home; when I got home..., we were all going... when I heard the sound of the bells. Then, when it was as if my ears... I said to the boy, ‘Why is it that our father has come...’

Recorded from Marijona Burokienė-Glubakaitė.

It was a long time ago. I was still young then, when she, that woman, spoke to me like this; she was so old, and she has already died. Well, a woman came to reap rye. And she was reaping rye; everything was ready. Nobody helped, nobody did anything, and she was with her child. The child was already walking around, walking around the farmyard. The child was like that, a clever child, but he was walking about. Then she brought food for the child and herself. She would reap all day, so food was needed. Well, she reaped and reaped. She came to eat, took the food herself, and gave some to the child. The child ate, and then she ate too and went back to reap. But the child stayed there again, playing. And she cut herself so badly there²¹ that she wasn’t looking after the child at all. And he wasn’t crying; she had taken everything and left food for him where she had cooked. And she showed him, so that if he wanted it, he would come and eat, but if he didn’t want it, he wouldn’t go; the child wouldn’t eat. And she reaped and reaped and reaped, and evening came. It was already evening, the sun had set. She was there then, but I don’t know whether she put up the sheaves or not, or whether she cut them in rows and stacked them. She had to go home. ‘I’ll go to fetch the child, and then I’ll gather some more. If I keep going, the sun will set and it’ll be evening.’ She went to fetch the child, but the child wasn’t there. And she looked there and looked there, thinking that the child had perhaps gone somewhere over there, led astray; he was a clever child, and there wasn’t much else. She looked everywhere, nowhere, nowhere. She went all over the field, running everywhere and looking, terrified; the child was nowhere. She would have to go home without the child, and then explain where the child was—or not explain, and that would be trouble. There was nothing there. She met a man who was carrying a jug of kvass. The jug wasn’t very far away, not far from where she was reaping. The man said that she should tell him everything, but not cry if she wanted the child. ‘That wolf took the child, because there was no one around, and I didn’t see anything, and you didn’t see anything; no people could be seen here at all. You were reaping alone, and wherever the child was, he may have been sleeping. And she was crying; surely the child was no longer in this world, she thought, and she cried all the more. But the man, being a good man, said, “Don’t cry. Now,” he said, “you mustn’t go and look over there where she, the wolf, is with her cubs. But she has already gone away from you to catch some game, perhaps she’ll grab something to eat, and then she’ll bring the child back. Then we’ll look over there for her; perhaps we’ll find something of the child’s there...

²¹The representatives of the village of Pagiriai, P. Chaleckienė and M. Vasiukevičienė, do not diphthongize the sound o in the words toli and sod't.

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with what; with what kind of jacket; with what:... how: you were walking around, or a little bad..., she says: Perhaps she found a hand: a hand found at that time, perhaps she knew that: she (the she-wolf) had given birth to a child. Aima, look, those wolf cubs, and the child is sitting there, while their (the wolf cubs’) mother, they say, is licking the child; and the child is playing with them, and nothing is wrong with the child. And that woman picked up the child; she still didn’t know where to run. And he says, “Don’t run, don’t run, go to fetch the little one, because she hasn’t come back yet, hasn’t come.” “We’ll go fetch the little one, where you left the child; where it was.” And she went to fetch the little one. She came there and showed it: a basket, where she had cooked the child, all of it. How had she (the she-wolf) brought that child to them (the wolf cubs)? Perhaps they didn’t take anything, because the little ones were there, that’s all. That woman kept complaining and defending herself, saying that she had seen how they took it, how that woman had told her. That’s how:

It was all there, all of it, I don’t remember what, it was brought, perhaps it was there. I don’t know, perhaps as many years as Gėnė (the old woman’s 12-year-old granddaughter) was old, perhaps I was younger, I don’t know. But at home, my mother would have liked me to be there, but I didn’t want to stay at home, that’s it, I didn’t want to. And why didn’t I want to? I always... well, the masters, when, there, she says, when they were staying there, and I didn’t want to go with them. I know why... The masters were still taking me along, so that everything would be good for the children. And it was good, it was good to take them along and everything, so that I would go there where they sent me. And they treated me as if I were their own: they didn’t send me like that; only sometimes they sent me to buy things, that’s all, what they always sent me for. And I was there. Whoever was staying there worked like that. Father, mother worked, and my sisters were there for me too. They wanted me to be at home, but I didn’t want to; I said, “I’ve already got used to it, I’ll go by myself now, you stay at home.” So I stayed home sometimes, so that I could work, as one has to work out in the field, that’s all... Why should I have to work all the time, when I would have had my own things, and with such people, where I was well treated, where she says, where she works, that’s where I was. And, of course, they would say what to do there, what things to do: the priests would stay with me, and I would always be with the priests, and the priests would come to our house as guests. My mistress told me that someone would come, either to take me along (invite me) or come as a guest. I got used to doing all the work, getting things ready, so that when guests came there would be something to drink, something to eat, even though the masters didn’t want much. Why? They were happy like that, and the food was good too.

Everything, that’s what I had to do, so I worked, whether it was working, going somewhere, going to visit, or going to a wedding; I worked at whatever came up and needed doing. And I went from my mistress to the wedding, I had nothing. When the bridegroom came to fetch me, we rode to church, and the priest gave me a dress: I was young. When a person is young, they are beautiful, but when they are old, they are not so beautiful. And we played, and danced, and drank, and there was plenty to eat, and everything was prepared. Everyone came to watch, whoever wanted to; some came when invited, and others came without being invited, but everyone danced, everything was lovely, everything was good. We would go along the road, wherever the berries grew, wherever the mushrooms grew, wherever the flowers grew; we had to gather things, we had to prepare things; we worked at everything, we did everything, we went visiting, everything was nicely gathered; everything was beautifully prepared, things were beautiful. I would ride wherever I wanted, anywhere. The priest said, “Don’t go

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to all the weddings, but go to the place, to the place where it’s good and beautiful, and may God grant children, teach them well; but the women don’t teach them, the women just work, go out into the fields, everything has to be done. I had a son, and I had only one husband. I was there alone with him; he was my only husband. It wasn’t like that then, the way people work now: one leaves one person and goes to another. In old age, one takes one person, and then they stay together until they die. When we ask, when we ask, God gives everything. What God gives is all there is. There weren’t any bad people then; everyone was good, and I was good to them. That’s all I can say. Everything was beautiful, everything was good, whatever we went to do, everything was good. And I still had everything, sheep and cattle and everything; everything, there was everything, whatever you wanted. They came to visit us, and we went to visit them; we went visiting together: to weddings, to guests’ houses, everywhere we went visiting. Whichever direction you wanted to go, you were taken that way; you stayed there, saw how people lived there, how everything was. When they brought me back, they would say that people had been there, that people had worked there, that there had been something, everything.

Well, I don’t remember it all very well now. I was pretty, so the mistress gave me beautiful dresses; I picked them out, and she gave me shoes too; she brought beautiful stockings from Warsaw, and necklaces for my neck, so that everything would look beautiful. I was well off there too, wherever we went, and it was lovely there. The young men were handsome there, and the girls were beautiful; the boys liked the girls, and the girls liked the boys. We did what we were told; they said, “Work so there’ll be something tasty to eat.” We did everything we were told, and baked everything, boiled everything, set the table beautifully, and the guests came. It was all lovely. I served a great many things. And the mistress said that I knew how to do things well and knew how to serve everything, while the others helped with the work. But I served a great many things. She told me not to take too long picking things out, to hurry, to make them beautiful and good, and to serve the guests first. I know everything, everything. Why did they like me? They liked me and wanted me to gather things, but the mistress wouldn’t let me; she said I had to do it too. One gentleman came to visit from there, from Krakow. He said that wherever he had been, he had never..., I had never wanted anything like that, as if... he already wanted to take me away; he said that he had never liked anyone as much as he liked me. But I was still young and didn’t know what they were saying there. Then the mistress told him everything; she told me, “Don’t take her there, let her stay here with me.” So I would go somewhere and then return here; she told him not to take me, not to take me away. They brought all sorts of things from there for me to choose from; they brought some flowers or other stockings to choose from too; they brought one little blouse, so beautiful you couldn’t look at it. They gave me everything to choose from, so I could pick what I wanted. The mistress wouldn’t let me go; she kept telling me not to go, not to go after him; she wanted everything so that I would be near her, so that I would come to her, that’s what she wanted.

Recorded from Petronėlė Chaleckienė-Dicevičiūtė.

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Explanations of little-known words and Slavic loanwords in the Zietela dialect

abò — or; ãg — when; ãnas, anà — he, she; apeiti — to overcome, defeat; ap(si)segdinėti — to put on (clothing); ardytis — 1) to quarrel, fail to get along, 2) to butt, thrust; atseiti, ateimasi, atsejo — 1) to fall to someone, 2) to happen; badanija — interrogation; bėz — without; bliuškà — blouse, smock; bõ, bà — because; bõčius (bõčis) — father; brólaine — sister-in-law; bùrà (bùrià) — storm; chòts — although; chvarabà — illness, evil, ugliness; chvãras, -à, — unhealthy, ill; čiẽlas, -à — healthy, full, whole; čiõngle — often; dãiktas — 1) place, 2) city; daĩlyba — division; daĩlyti — to divide; dapadėdinėti — to help; daržinė — barn, building for storing grain and hay; dažïūrėti — to look after; dõ (dò) — 1) and, 2) emphatic particle; draugė — household, family; dūmoti — to think, suppose; dušinti (dušýti) — to stew, stifle; dùžas, -à — strong, sturdy; ėsti, ėma (ėsti), ėdė — to eat; gãdnas, -à — good; gaišinti (gaišyti) — to destroy; gajõvas — forest, woodland; gig — indeed; grãžitkas, -à — beautiful; grėbstyti — to grope, handle; hardýti — see ardytis

hãlasas (ãlasas) — 1) noise, 2) voice; indirbti — to install, entangle; ingãdyti — to please, adapt oneself; innaràvyti — to please, hit upon; inrinkdinėti — to decorate, dress; insilaizdinėti — to let oneself go; iškadavóti — to pity; itas, -a — this; iż — behind; iżdaužinėti — to fight, beat one another; iżdėgyti — to set alight; iżnorėti — to begin wanting; iżvilkti — see užvilkti; kãb — see kap; kãbgig — how indeed; kabyti (kabinti) — to touch; kabõlai — fortune-telling by cards; kabõlnykas — card reader, fortune-teller; kal(i) — if; kanà — where (indicating direction); kãp — how; klãpatas — worry; klikas — shout, scream; koplõnas — priest, pastor; kõžnas — each; krūpa — a little; kubkėlis — cup; kūltis — 1) to beat (one another), 2) to break; kunodà — potato; kvietkà — flower; lachmõnas — jacket, short coat; lachõnė — bowl; ląpoti — to pat; ledõkas (ledãkas) -à — bad, poor; lietis — to rain, pour, flow; mãčitkas, -à — small, little; maciãntulikas, -a — very small; mėgti — to love; mėnas — month; meñčyti — to torment; mõža — perhaps, maybe, little

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možna — possible; mūsit (musit) — probably, most likely; nāto — moreover, still, even; nechòj — let; nedavėjas — rascal, tormentor; nūg — from; pabūti — suffice, stand for a while; padkaldinėti — shoe; padotkai — taxes; pakì — until, as long as; pakulti — smash; palūdhnavoti — eat an afternoon snack, have lunch; pamacitikù — slowly, gradually; pamėsti — leave; pariñkti — take, remove; paristi — knock down, overturn; pas(i)idėti — see, behold; pasikòpti — hide; pasižėnyti — marry, get married; pautaryti (ūtaryti) — see ūtaryti; pažinti — understand; pažìsti — recognize; pérbūti — live through, survive; pilnavóti — keep watch, guard; pòtim — afterwards; pŏterkai (pŏterkos) — beads; prijūnkti — get used to; pririñkti — prepare, make ready; prisèg(dinè)ti(s) — swear, take an oath; prisirinkdinėti — get ready, adorn oneself; pritriñti — grate; rassakydinėti — tell, recount; rasirašýti — sign; raščina — dough, mass; razdailýti — distribute, divide; rázom — together; razriñkti — take; riñkti — 1) take, 2) take a wife; rõdas, -à — cheerful; sà — with; sagaįšyti — destroy, perish, spoil; sakėpti (taria sakėpti) — bake

samarnavóti — spoil, destroy; sasibūti — save up, become wealthy; sasidėdinėti — put together; sasieiti — agree, come to terms; sasigriebti — grapple, fight; šāvintis — assert, prove, swear to God; syla — strength; spakainas, -a — calm; spėsóti — hurry; splūsnos — feathers; spritnūs, -i — fast, agile; stiéna — wall; strychà (striechà) — roof; strycháuka — insurance fee, insurance; stròkas — fear; sūdžia — judge; sukienkà — dress; susiėdas (sasiedas) — neighbor; šiltis — 1) fire, 2) light, 3) blaze, 4) warmth; škodà (ir škòda) — pity; šviršti — whistle; tadaīk — then; taki (gi) — nevertheless, also, too; tašla — 1) dough, 2) bread trough; tāta — dad; tenāka — there, over there; tėrlė — clay pot, half-sized pot; terlykà — small half-sized pot; tėsti — stretch, pull; tiktaīk — only; tiurmà — prison; triūdna — difficult; tsaīk — this, that; tuīzoti — drag, pull about; ūtaryti (ūtaryti) — speak, talk; užeidinėti — set, go down (of the sun); užeiti — return home; užriñkti — 1) take, 2) marry; užsipiauti — take too long cutting, forget oneself; užsodinéti — assert, argue; užvilkti — seize, drag away

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valgymas — lunch; valgyti — have lunch; vedōma — of course; vẽčeroti — have dinner; vesẽlia — wedding; vesẽ (viešė) — village, village street, settlement; viekiau — quickly; vilkūtas — little wolf, wolf cub; visa lygū — all the same

vūtyrati — see ūtarati; žāras — right away, at once; zausiōdi — always; zōslanka — oven lid, stove cover; žāidotis — play; žāisti — play music, gamble; žyvytis — feed oneself; žvirždos (only plural) — sand

SOME FEATURES OF THE ZIETELA DIALECT

А. Ю. ВИДУГИРИС

Abstract

In the Dziatlava (Lith. Zietela) district of Grodno Region, Byelorussian SSR, are the villages of Zasėčiai (Zasėčiai) and Pagiriai (Pagiriai), where people who speak Lithuanian can still be found. South of the Lithuanian SSR border, this is the most distant island of the Lithuanian language. By tradition, the Lithuanian dialect of these villages is called the “Zietela (Dziatlava) dialect” (“Zietelos tarmė”). According to statistics for 1886, 1,156 Lithuanians still lived in the Dziatlava district. At present, the number of Lithuanian speakers can be counted at up to 30, while the number of people who understand Lithuanian is about three times larger. Since 1950, this island has been visited by many linguists from the Lithuanian Republic, but the collected material has not been published.

Several dialectological texts, recorded on a portable tape recorder in 1957, are presented here to readers. The texts are accompanied by commentary on the main phonetic and morphological features of the Zietela dialect, as well as a glossary of less familiar words and borrowings.

It is still too early to decide which dialect of Lithuanian the Zietela dialect belongs to. It should, however, be noted that in certain features of its vocalism (e.g., the preservation of the sounds ą, ę and the diphthongs am, an, em, en of the literary language: grāstas drill, tẽ˙sa pulls, samtis scoop, kānda bites, sāemt scoop, peinkos five) and consonantism (e.g., the absence of the main features of the Dzūkian dialect: martì daughter-in-law (bride), di˙nā day, dvì two, mēdžas tree, svēčas guest). The Zietela dialect is close to the dialect of the southwestern Aukštaitians. In other features, the Zietela dialect aligns with the Dzūkian dialects and the neighboring East Aukštaitian dialects, such as Lazūnai, Varanavas, Radunė and others. Among these features, we note the following: the diphthongs ie, uo often narrow to i˙ (y), u˙ (ū) (vì˙nas one, nì˙kas nobody, nothing, jú˙das black, šū˙ dog, pōnu˙s at the gentlemen’s), while the monophthongs o, ė become diphthongs uo, ie (niōri wants, žiuōdis word, bruolūkas little brother, adbiēgāu ran up-

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In the word жал ‘barn’ (daržinė̇ ‘granary’), the sound combinations ti, di are retained in the endings of some words (pãtėu ‘lost’, guidei ‘wove’, bìti ‘bakes’, gaĩdo ‘of a rooster’, daĩño ‘of a tooth’); the consonants l, r, s, š, ž and the affricates č, dž are pronounced hard before the vowels e, ė, i (kãũle ‘pig’, lantà ‘board’, inbìndo ‘climbed in’, ržkė ‘shouted’, gražsnis ‘more beautiful’, šãši ‘six’, mẽdžas ‘tree’, trãčas ‘third’), and so on. Some phonetic features occur that are rarely found in other dialects, such as on in place of literary Lithuanian o (touli ‘far’, soudì:t ‘to say’), ie in place of ei (sviẽkas ‘healthy’, viekãũ ‘soon’), ė in place of ž (za˙s’is ‘goose’, žvaĩždė ‘star’, žverìs ‘beast’, baznìča ‘church’), the absence of the consonants k, g before the sound combinations š, ž + t, d, č (šãuštas ‘spoon’, pãrnišča(s) ‘last year’s’, žvìrždos ‘sand’), and so on.

The morphology of the dialect also contains a number of distinctive features. For example, nouns with the suffixes -i:ka (avìlka ‘sheep, ewe’, kãinbì:ka ‘little pig’, karvì:ka ‘little cow’), -utas (vilkùtas ‘wolf cub’, kiškùtas ‘leveret’, langùtas ‘little window’), -ikas- in personal names (Valėrikas ‘Valerik’, Kòstikas ‘Kostik’, Jùzikas ‘Yuzik’), and -itkas, -itka in adjectives (mãčikas, -à ‘small, little’, mačinutìlikas, -a ‘tiny, minuscule’, sėnitkas, -à ‘rather old’) are used. The formation and inflection of adverbs are also of interest (mažai(k) ‘little’, mažàst ‘less’, nãĩ, mažàst ‘least’, senàik ‘long ago’, and the corresponding comparative and superlative forms: senėst, nãĩ_senėst). Four local cases are used: inessive (ãnas jãũ kelė ‘he is already on the road’), illative (ãnas nùvažãũ kelãn ‘he went onto the road’), adessive (mi_sìti (ɂ) asmòbik’ nérã ‘we have no money’), and allative (aš aĩnu namòn ‘I am going home’). Feminine nouns that have the ending -ai in the instrumental singular attract attention: sa_gi’nai savãi rašãi bì:sta ‘he lives with one of his own wives’; sa jãũ nùvažãũ ‘he went with her’. It is assumed that the ending -ai is a remnant of pronominal adjectives, whose retention and spread to other parts of speech were encouraged by analogy with the Russian and Belarusian languages (cf. the underlined endings -ой, -ей). Possessive pronouns are frequently used in the dialect: tãpas, tãpà ‘my’, ‘mine’, lãvas, -à ‘your’, ‘yours’, sãvas, -à ‘one’s own’; as are some athematic verbs: mì:kt(i) ‘sleeps’, aĩt(i) ‘walks’, skãũst(i) ‘hurts’, jėst(i) ‘eats’, dĩest(i) ‘puts’, dũost(i) ‘gives’. The past-tense form (3rd person) of the verb bùti ‘to be’ is distinctive: kãrves mì:s’ bì dvì ‘we had two cows’; bìti dì:das sa_bòbai ‘grandfather and grandmother were there’. The subjunctive mood also retains an archaic character: 1st person singular sakėčĩp ‘I would bake’, sukãčĩp ‘I would spin’; 2nd person sadėktai ‘you would burn’, atvažiùtumėi ‘you would come’; 3rd person bù:tu’p ‘he/she would be’, norėtu’p ‘he/she would want’; 1st person plural dũotum ‘we would give’, pìrktumėnt ‘we would buy’; 2nd person plural atvažiùtumėnt ‘you would come’. The preposition (and, at the same time, prefix) sa ‘with’ (sa_savaĩs vaĩkais ‘with one’s own children’; sãdegė ‘burned down’; satìko ‘met’) and prè ‘at, by, near, to’ (mės sastojom prè jã ‘we stopped beside her’; ãni’s prìjùnkaė prè savo ‘they got used to their own’) should also be mentioned, among other features.

All of the foregoing shows how useful the study of the Zietela dialect may be for the history of the Lithuanian language; several texts in the dialect are published here.