Here is the original text of the latest passage from Finnegans Wake I have recorded. Clear to be seen is the man’s delight at tinkering with the English language. A slip of the pen, and we are dealing with “humid nature”. The audio features Philip Zoubek and Marcus Schmickler behind the words of Joyce.

Finn Page 597

Lok! A shaft of shivery in the act, anilancinant. Cold’s sleuth!
Vayuns! Where did thots come from? It is infinitesimally fevers,
resty fever, risy fever, a coranto of aria, sleeper awakening, in
the smalls of one’s back presentiment, gip, and again, geip, a
flash from a future of maybe mahamayability through the windr
of a wondr in a wildr is a weltr as a wirbl of a warbl is a world.
It is perfect degrees excelsius. A jaladaew still stilleth. Cloud
lay but mackrel are. Anemone activescent, the torporature is re-
turning to mornal. Humid nature is feeling itself freely at ease
with the all fresco. The vervain is to herald as the grass admini-
sters. They say, they say in effect, they really say. You have eaden
fruit. Say whuit. You have snakked mid a fish. Telle whish.
Every those personal place objects if nonthings where soevers
and they just done been doing being in a dromo of todos with-
outen a bound to be your trowers. Forswundled. You hald him
by the tap of the tang. Not a salutary sellable sound is since. In-
steed for asteer, adrift with adraft. Nuctumbulumbumus wander-
wards the Nil. Victorias neanzas. Alberths neantas. It was a long,
very long, a dark, very dark, an allburt unend, scarce endurable,
and we could add mostly quite various and somenwhat stumble-
tumbling night. Endee he sendee. Diu! The has goning at gone,
the is coming to come. Greets to ghastern, hie to morgning. Dor-
midy, destady. Doom is the faste. Well down, good other! Now
day, slow day, from delicate to divine, divases. Padma, brighter
and sweetster, this flower that bells, it is our hour or risings.
Tickle, tickle. Lotus spray. Till herenext. Adya.
Take thanks, thankstum, thamas. In that earopean end meets
There is something supernoctural about whatever you called
him it. Panpan and vinvin are not alonety vanvan and pinpin in
your Tamal without tares but simplysoley they are they. This-
utter followis that odder fellow. Himkim kimkim. Old yeaster-
loaves may be a stale as a stub and the pitcher go to aftoms on the
wall. Mildew, murk, leak and yarn now want the bad that they
lied on. And your last words todate in camparative accousto-
mology are going to tell stretch of a fancy through strength to-
wards joyance, adyatants, where he gets up. Allay for allay, a
threat for a throat.