SinPlatt
SinPlatt is an a-posteriori Germanic conlang. It is based on English, Dutch, German and Old Saxon. It uses lexical and grammatical features that are present in at least two out of the three of English, Dutch and German. The form of words is based on Old Saxon and Middle Low German, and it has a phonology that is similar to some modern Low German/Low Saxon dialects.
Text Sample
“Ik pries de lüttele husar an,” riep de merketantin. “De junge bürger heft ene modig hert.” Korporal Aubry marschärde forbie uten seggen een word. Acht oder tejn soldaten liepen fort and kåmen med him toosamen. Hi leidede hin toorügg ene grote eek, umgegeven med dornen. Wan kam hi dår, hi settede hin fort de rand fan de busch, noch uten seggen een word, an ene wied gestrekkde front, eelke stond toomindest tejn schreden af siene nåjbuur.
“Ach so männen”, seggde de koporal, hi sprak för de eerst mål, “schiet nejt antoo ik et befel: bedenk, ji hebbt enig drie patronen eelk.”
“Doch, wat geschejt dan?” frågde Frabrice sikk. Endlik, wan fand hi sikk alleen med de korporal, hi seggde too him: “Ik hebb kene muskett.”
“Eersts, hald diene tung. Gå fort dår: fieftig schreden for de busch, sallst du een fan de arme soldaten fan dat regiment finden, niewlik fan ene sabel gehakkd; du sallst siene rancel and siene muskett nemen. Roof nejt af ene ferwundede mann doch; nem de rancel and muskett af ene gewisse dode, ond iel sikk oder du sallst fan unsere kameraden geschoten wesen.”
"I recommend the little hussar", called the cantinière. "The young bourgeois has a stout heart." Corporal Aubry marched past with saying a word. Eight or ten solders ran forth and joined him. He led them behind a giant oak, surrounded with thorns. When he got there, he deployed them along the edge of the thicket, still not saying a word, on a widely extended front, each one stood at least ten paces from his neighbor. "So men," said the coporal, speaking for the first time, "don't shoot until I order it: remember, you only have three cartridges each."
"But what's happening then?" Frabrice asked himself. Finally, when he found himself alone with the corporal, he said to him: "I haven't got a musket."
"Firstly, hold your tongue. Go along there: fifty yards in front of the woods, you will find one of the unfortunate soldiers of regiment, newly cut down by a sabre; you shall take his satchel and musket. Don't strip a wounded man though; take the satchel and musket from a properly dead one, and hurry up or you will be shot by our comrades."
