Appeal to the God-man

"Appeal to the God-man" is a 19th century appeal to the church leaders overseeing the attempts to "civilize" the Siberian pagans. It is considered an important insight into the lives of the early Jugsnorsk (Called the "Jugranni" in this document), being one of the very few documents that goes in depth into the conditions, beliefs, and practices.

The original text is preserved rather well, but due to its age, it's rather unintelligible to modern speakers, so the version presented here is a rendition into modern Jugsnorsk and an English translation.

The text will be split by section, with the English names being literal translations, and formatted as Jugsnorsk followed by an indented English translation. The sections are as follows:

"Before" - An intro, addressing the concerns and grievances of the Jugsnorsk.

"Our lives" - Discusses the conditions they face in Siberia.

"Our minds" - Discusses the beliefs of the Jugsnorsk, and how their "un-Christian-ness" shouldn't make them worthy of obliteration.

"Our ways" - Discusses their practices, directly objecting to the barbaric image the church presents of them.

"You" - Directly addresses the church and lays plain all the wrongs they've pursued against the Jugsnorsk, one of the subsections, titled "Your insults", lays out every false word spoken by the church about them and gives an accusation against the church in turn, it's written as poetry in Fornyrðislag meter. Every second person pronoun that refers to the church in this section has been heavily bolded and capitalized, this has always been reproduced in every copy made.

The "Your insults" section is formatted differently from the rest, as to stay faithful to the text. It will look like this:

Þú tennir vera ok

Þú glǿma yða víf

Þú havnar utmanni ok

Þú missegir fáruðu.

You burn men and

You forget your wives

You hate foreigners and

You misguide the poor.

In each of these, the first pair of lines is the accusation by the church, and the second is an accusation against it.

Before

It would seem to us, that even after all you've taken from us, you're still not satisfied with our suffering, and still require more out of us. When will it be enough? You have taken our homes, our land, our children, even our pride, will you next try to take our culture? For that we will seek war, God-man.

Let this "before" ("intro") be our wrath in words, for if you continue what you try, our anger will no longer be with quill. Our pain will no longer be alone. As you read this, God-man, I hope you understand how you make us suffer, and realize your actions make you far more worthy of Hell than us for our ways.

Let it be that you know us from here out, and let it be that your God blots out your very existence if you dare to ignore us.

We burn our dead so that nothing can steal from their corpse, and to honor their courage even in death, but you twist that and make it seem like we burn the living, when it was You who did that.

We leave our women alone for we trust them, we go off and return with what is needed, while they stay and provide what is needed, you forget women make life possible too. Yet you twist this so it sounds like we abandon them.

You say we came to these mountains to strip them of their native peoples, yet here you are, doing what you blame us for.

You say we thieve and raid, yet how are you any better when you lie to a peasants face, abuse his illiteracy, and thieve every last penny from him?

You claim truth by word of God, yet every sound that leaves your mouth weaves a lie so elaborate not even your God can avoid being disgusted by you. Every letter made by your hand inscribes new falsehoods. Every thought in your mind, new ways to enrichen yourselves.

You

Your insults

þú tenrir vera ok

þú glǿma yða víf

Þú havnar utmanni ok

Þú missegir fáruðu.

You burn men and

You forget your wives

You hate foreigners and

You misguide the poor.

After

(last line)
í ennanum er priða lónina þém, es kós þat í lívi, ok þú skót kunna bath, at dóðrin sjóv kná vera ódhavnaða. líta, at þér Guð er segir þik góðkjorinu, bethtum os.

In the end, peace is a reward to those who chose it in life, and you should know best that even the dead can be ever-scorned. I trust your God will guide you towards the right choice, for the best of us both.