ñi jakāellīñ jarēspe sū janūwa ī;
sū mamō salōmme ñi matūmse manīsen marēwa;
samma japēlti mo jaxēxi ja ē ñi jarewēλi ī ñi jahūwi ī ñi jasēþa ñe jawēlrienāl rū jatāsa λi xēþa āñ;
sū jatāsa la jatēwa jaλāona jarōllōl ja sūjōl la macēna maranīsa masērre saŋē ē jawūña ē jāŋŋeren sawēλa jatāña janēūñ ñe anmāe;
ewaþ ñi ē antiēleni nāra anrūēñi ē anērre ī;
ā macēna nīkamma sālne jajēren jē nā ñamma sū ma hāl jalāmīke jalūnte rājatā;

The kāellīñ was stirring in the corner again.
In the young man's arms, the carved tūmse was awake.
It was barking at the plumes of smoke which were twisting and breaking and making a knot like a piece of interlace around the Iron market-square.
In the square was a broad, snow-covered table on which stood a well-dressed woman, her face disdainful and beautiful, her cheeks flushed rose like tea.
Yet all past events were forgotten and pride, too.
The woman, with only a playful smile, put down in front of him a shiny veil.

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