I had fear oor Kornies

I had fear

Vertalings in die woordeboek Engels - Kornies

my a'm beu own

own a'm beu

voorbeelde

I had fear
/ my a'm beu own / / /

I had fear
/ own a'm beu / / /

Never had I greater fear,
bythkweyth moy own ny'm darva,

Radiance was with him, | Never had I greater fear, | By God who made me !
Golowder ganso re beu, | bythkweyth moy own ny'm darva, | re Dhyw a'm ros!

"There is one thing," I said, to allay the fears I had aroused; "they are the most sluggish things I ever saw crawl.
'Yma unn dra,' yn-medhav rag lehe an ownow re savsen; 'yth yns i an sygerra kroaduryon a welis nevra ow kramya yn ow oos.

I smiled,—for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I bade them search—search well. I led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.
My a vinhwarthas–rag pandr’a dylis vy doutya? My a dhynerghis an dus jentyl. An us, yn-medhav, re bia ahanav vy ow honan, ha my owth hunrosa. Yth esa an den koth, yn-medhav, a-dre y’n powdir. My a ledyas ow gwestoryon dres oll an chi. My a’s erghis may hwitthrens–may hwitthrens yn ta. My a’s ledyas, wortiwedh, dh’y jambour. My a dhiskwedhas dhedha y dresoryow, diogel ha salow dell ens. Y’m omfydhyans my a gerghas kadoryow y’n stevel ha profya, yn hwresek, i dhe bowes omma a’ga lavuryow. Yn kettermyn, y’n kolonekter gwyls a’m trygh perfydh, y settis vy ow esedh ow honan war an le poran may hwrowedha korf ow fethesik yn-danno.

When I had made an end of these labors, it was four o’clock—still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart,—for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises.
Pan worfensen an lavuryow ma, peder eur o–hwath mar dewl avel hanter-nos. Dell sonas an klogh pedergweyth, y klewis nebonan ow knoukya orth daras an stret. My a dhiyskynnas rag y ygeri, skav ow holon–rag pyth esa lemmyn y tal dhymm doutya? Yth entras tri den, a omgomendyas, gans kortesi perfydh, avel sodhogyon a’n kreslu. Us re bia klewys gans kentrevek y’n nos; gogrys a dhrokoleth re bia sordyes; kedhlow re bia derivys orth an sodhva greslu, hag i aga honan re bia erghys dhe hwithra an drehevyans.

'I endured him as long as I could, but the truth was desperately important, and in the end I had to be harsh. I put the fear of fire on him, and wrung the true story out of him, bit by bit, together with much snivelling and snarling. He thought he was misunderstood and ill-used. But when he had at last told me his history, as far as the end of the Riddle-game and Bilbo’s escape, he would not say any more, except in dark hints. Some other fear was on him greater than mine. He muttered that he was going to gel his own back. People would see if he would stand being kicked, and driven into a hole and then robbed. Gollum had good friends now, good friends and very strong. They would help him. Baggins would pay for it. That was his chief thought. He hated Bilbo and cursed his name. What is more, he knew where he came from.’
‘My a’n porthas dre dermyn mar hir dell yllis vy, mes an gwiryonedh o a-vri dres eghenn, ha wor’tiwedh, res o dhymm bos anhwek. My a worras own a dan warnodho, hag a dennas an hwedhel gwir diworto, tamm ha tamm, gans merans ha gryslans meur. Ev a dybis y vos kammgonvedhys ha tebeldyghtys. Mes wor’tiwedh, pan lavarsa ev y istori orthiv, bys yn diwedh a’n gwari-rim ha diank Bylbo, ny wrussa ev leverel moy, marnas kampoellow tewl. Yth esa neb own dhodho hag o brassa es y own ahanav. Ev a hanasas ev dhe gavoes drog-gras. Ev a dhiskwedhsa dhe dus ma na borthsa ev bos potys, ha dannvenys yn toll, ha perthi tus a ladra diworto. Yth esa kowetha da dhe Golum lemmyn, kowetha da ha pur grev. I a’n gweressa. Bagyns a dalvia. Henn o y benndybyans. Kas o gans Golum Bylbo, hag ev a volletha y hanow. Hag ynwedh, ev a woer an le may teuth ev.’

‘Wretched fool! In that land he would learn much, too much for his comfort. And sooner or later as he lurked and pried on the borders he would be caught, and taken - for examination. That was the way of it, I fear. When he was found he had already been there long, and was on his way back. On some errand of mischief. But that does not matter much now. His worst mischief was done.
Muskok! Y’n dir na y tysksa ev meur, re. Ha, dell wrug ev skolkya dhe’n emlow, ev a veu synsys, ha kemmerys rag govynnans. Henn o an dra, dell hevel dhymm. Pan veu ev kevys, ev re beu ena dre dermyn hir, hag yth esa ev ow tasweles. Ow kul neb oberenn dhregynnus. Mes nyns yw henna a-vern lemmyn. Y wettha dregynn a veu gwrys.’

‘But at the western edge of Mirkwood the trail turned away. It wandered off southwards and passed out of the Wood-elves’ ken, and was lost. And then I made a great mistake. Yes, Frodo, and not the first; though I fear it may prove the worst. I let the matter be. I let him go; for I had much else to think of at that time, and I still trusted the lore of Saruman.
‘Mes dhe amal howlsedhes Murkwud, an ol a dreylyas dhe-ves war-dhyghow, hag ev eth mes a wodhvos an Elfow-Koes; kellys veu. Hag ena, my a wrug kammwrians bras. Yn hwir, Frodo, ha nyns o an kynsa; kyn perthav own y vo an gwettha huni. My a asas an dra. My a hedhis an helgh; drefenn bos prederow pals dhymm dhe’n termyn na, ha my a fydhyas yn skentoleth Saruman hwath.’

♦ by you I have been k. genes eth oma ledhys WJ; the maid will be kd. an voran a vedh ledhys OM; for they had been k. rag th'o anjei ledhys WR; for fear he would be k. rag own y vones ledhys PA
♦ by you I have been k. genes eth oma ledhys WJ; the maid will be kd. an voran a vedh ledhys OM; for they had been k. rag th'o anjei ledhys WR; for fear he would be k. rag own y vones ledhys PA

One night when the sea was so tranquil And I strangely restless not sleeping A lonely silhouette, I went walking To breathe in the night-scented air On a black rock flooded by moonshine Sat two lovers so sweetly oblivious While the tide rose and washed all around them Transfixed, I just stood and I stared "I am thine, thou art mine, beyond control In the wave, be the grave of heart and soul" For they merged with the soft, lapping waters No panic nor terror displaying Yet I thought I perceived their two voices So gentle, so peaceful yet clear They returned without breaking the surface Looked me full in the face strangely smiling Then they kissed before finally sinking Never again to appear "I am thine, thou art mine, beyond control In the wave, be the grave of heart and soul" No more than a day or two later In a neighbouring cove lay a body On the smooth, golden sand was incumbent A maiden serene and so fair It was then that I learned the sad story Of a maiden and youth and their passion How their families insisted they parted For the young man, a sailor's career "I am thine, thou art mine, beyond control In the wave, be the grave of heart and soul" And their very last living encounter In a cove where by chance I went walking By full moon they had vowed, dead or living To meet at the end of three years From abroad followed news quite amazing For that very same night I'd been walking It seemed that the young man had perished His death had confirmed my worst fears "I am thine, thou art mine, beyond control In the wave, be the grave of heart and soul" This was the lovers' song at Porthgwarra
Unn nos, an mor pan o mar leven Hag ankoth ow studh mar dhibowes Furv dhu, my a gerdhas a'm honan Rag tenna anal hweg an nos Ha war garrek dhu beudhys dre lorgan A'ga esedh yn ankov dew garer Hag a-dro dhedha 'n dowr ow morlenwel Pur stag my a's hwithra didros "My yw dhis, ty yw dhymm, diallos on Bedhes bedh y’n mordon a enev ha kolon" Heb euth na own ens i Pan y's dyerbynnas an dowr klor ow lapya Byttegyns, my a dybis y klewsen Dew lev kosel hwar mes diblans Dehweles a wrussons heb terri min dowr Koynt aga minhwarth, i a'm hwithras Yth amsons kyns i dhe omdroghya Heb dasomdhiskwedhes namoy "My yw dhis, ty yw dhymm, diallos on Bedhes bedh y’n mordon a enev ha kolon" Erbynn penn namoy es dew dhydh Yn porth ogas war 'n treth owrek gwastas Yth esa a'y wrowedh korf maghteth Mar deg o hi, hebask keffrys Hag yndelma, y tyskis vy hwedhel pur drist A gerensa an vyrgh 'barth den yowynk May’s dibarthas i aga theyluyow Ha gul a'n mab marner tramor "My yw dhis, ty yw dhymm, diallos on Bedhes bedh y’n mordon a enev ha kolon" Ha'ga huntell diwettha yn few 'veu Y’n keth porth dre hap may hwrug kerdhes 'Th ambossens dasunyans y'n tressa bledhen Mar pens marow po bew A dramor y teuth trist an nowodhow Rag an keth nos pan esen ow kerdhes Y farwsa an mab del heveli Y vernans 'afydhyas ow dout "My yw dhis, ty yw dhymm, diallos on Bedhes bedh y’n mordon a enev ha kolon" Honn o kan an garoryon a Borthgwartha

One very hot Sunday in July, I was walking across the town to the Sunday school, dressed in my best clothes. I was very hot and irritable, when I saw in the street in front of me the large form of a boy that I recognised. I was somewhat fearful. This boy was well known by boys all around the town as a rough and cruel fellow. He was two years older and bigger than me. The previous Sunday, he had thrown one of my friends into a horse trough! I didn’t want the same thing to happen to me! What would my mother say, if I were to return with my best clothes all wet and dirty?
Unn dy’ Sul pooth yn mis Metheven, yth esen vy ow kerdhes a-dreus an dre dhe’n skol dy’ Sul, gwiskys yn ow gwella dillas. Bros ha tesek en vy, pan welis y’n stret a-ragov an furv vras a vab a aswonis. Nebes ownek en vy. Aswonys yn ta o an maw ma gans mebyon oll a-dro dhe’n dre, avel gwas smat ha fell. Diw vledhen gottha ha brassa o ev agesov. An dy’ Sul kyns, ev re dowlsa onan a’m kowetha yn hester margh! Ny vynnen an keth tra dhe hwarvos dhymm! Pandr’a lavarsa ow mamm, mar tehwellen vy gans ow gwella dillas oll glyb ha plos?

I put on the sergeant’s uniform. It fitted well. The boots fitted well also. But the slouch hat ...? It floated on top of my huge afro and then slid off the back completely. This was a problem. In any event, I thought, Sergeants in the Australian Army probably don’t have afro hair styles. I loved my afro. It was the object of envy of all my female friends. Many used to run their fingers through it – just to see if it were real. They were convinced, if it were real, that I used ‘one hundred and one’ hot rollers every night to maintain the style. This was not true. I didn’t do anything at all to it – just a very quick comb in the morning. Nothing more. However, the afro had to go – and go now. Fortunately, the person who had maintained the flowers in the crypt had left a large pair of scissors – used to trim the stems, I suppose. Anyway, in a few minutes, I had hacked the whole afro from my head. It lay on the floor like a dead creature. David retreated to a corner, staring at me. Perhaps he feared that his afro was next. But there was no need for that – not yet, in any case. So, how did the haircut look? Awful. But it would be hidden under the slouch hat. The hat fitted me now – and I didn’t look like Sergeant Hippy, only Sergeant Very Young. When I had completed dressing myself in the Sergeant’s uniform – and had duly straightened all the sharply pressed seams – I turned to David (who was still a little fearful) and exhibited myself: “Ta-dah! What do you think, mate? Do I exude an air of authority?” I’m not sure what, if anything, he thought of my new appearance. He remained stone-faced at the sight of me – though he did look me up and down. “No matter,” I said. “Now it’s your turn.” I bade him come forward to me but he merely retreated, grunting his disapproval. (Not a good start for my grand plan). I thus needed to gently cajole David for over an hour, a precious hour, before he relented and let me start removing his also recently washed – but even more stained and filthy – clothes.
My a omwiskas yn uniform an serjont. Desedhys yn ta o dhymm. Yndellna o an botasennow ynwedh. Byttegyns, an hatt ledan medhel ...? Yth heveli bos ow neuvella war ow blew-afrek bras hag ena ev a slynkyas dhiworth an delergh ow fenn ... ha war an leur. Kudynn o hemma. Yn neb kas, dell brederis, nyns eus serjons vyth yn Lu Ostralek a wisk aga blew yn furv afro meur. (Po dell grysyn). Da o genev yn feur ow afro vy. An acheson rag meur a envi yn mysk ow howethesow. Lies yntredha a wre resek aga bysies dredho – rag diskudha mar pe gwir. Meur o aga kryjyans – mar pe gwir – my dhe wul devnydh a ‘onan ha kans’ rolbrenyer toemm pub nos rag y witha y’n furv na. Byttegyns, nyns o henna gwir. Ny wrugavy travyth oll – saw kribans uskis myttinweyth. Travyth moy. Byttegyns, res o dhymm lemmyn ladha an blew afrek ma. Yn gwella prys, an den re withsa an bleujennow y’n gleudgell re assa gwelsigow bras – devnydhyes kyns rag aga godreghi, dell dhesevav. Yn neb kas, wosa nebes mynysenn, my re hakksa an afro dien dhiworth ow fenn. Yth esa a’y worwedh war an leur kepar ha kroadur marow. Davydh a gildennas yn korn, ow lagatta orthymm. Martesen, yth esa own dhodho drefenn tenkys y afro y honan. Byttegyns, nyns esa edhomm a’y dreghi – na hwath, dhe’n lyha. Ytho, fatell o furv ow blew wosa an hakkyans? Euthyk. Mes y hyllyn y gudha yn-dann an hatt ledan melen. Lemmyn, desedhys yn ta o keffrys – ha, dres henna, nyns en na fella “Serjont Hyppi”. Byttegyns, “Serjont Pur-Yowynk” en vy hwath. Pan omwisksen yn uniform dhien an serjont – ha pan wrussen ewn oll an gwriow gweskys yn ta – my a dreylyas dhe Dhavydh (hwath nebes ownek) hag omdhiskwedhes: “Tah-dah! Pyth a brederydh, ‘Vata? Eus ayr awtorita dhymmo vy?” Nyns ov sur pyth a brederis ev a-dro dhe’m mir nowydh. Y fisment a besyas bos meynek – kyn lagattas ev orthymm ughel hag isel. “Ny vern,” yn-medhav. “Lemmyn, dha dro jy yth yw.” My a wovynnas ev dhe dheuth yn-rag dhymmo vy mes ny wrug ev saw kildenna yn-unn-rogha dhymm y fowt akord. (Nyns o hemma dalleth da rag ow thowl konnyk.) Ytho, res o dhymm a flattra Davydh yn tov dres moy es our, our presyous, kyns ev dhe dhiserri rag gasa my dhe dhalleth y dhiwiska. Y dhillas, kynth o golghys a-gynsow, o plossa ha moy nemmys hogen ages ow huni.

‘Only too true, I fear,’ said Gandalf. ‘But there was something else in it, I think, which you don’t see yet. Even Gollum was not wholly ruined. He had proved tougher than even one of the Wise would have guessed -as a hobbit might. There was a little corner of his mind that was still his own, and light came through it, as through a chink in the dark: light out of the past. It was actually pleasant, I think, to hear a kindly voice again, bringing up memories of wind, and trees, and sun on the grass, and such forgotten things.
‘Pur wir, dell waytyav,’ a leveris Gandalf. ‘Mes yth esa neppyth arall, dell brederav, na wre’ta gweles hwath. Ny veu Golum diswrys yn tien. Ev re ombrovsa bos kalessa es an Fur a dhismygsa - dell ve hobyt. Yth esa korn byghan a’y vrys esa dhodho hwath, ha golow eth dredho, haval orth aswa y’n tewlder: golow diworth an termyn yw passys. Da o ganso, dell dybav, klywes lev kuv arta, ow tri kovyow a wyns, ha gwydh, ha howl war an gwels, ha traow ankovhas arall a’n par na.’

8 And there were shepherds in that region abiding in the fields, keeping watch by night to take care of their flock. 9 And behold an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they had great fear. 10 And the angel said to them, °Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. 11 for you is born today in the city of David a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord. 12 And . this will be a sign to you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.' 13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, 14 'Glory in the highest to God, and on earth peace to people of goodwill.' 15 Then, after the angels departed from them into heaven, the shepherds were saying to one another, 'Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing which is come to pass which the Lord showed us' 16 And they came with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in a manger. 17 And when they saw him, they told the thing that was said to them concerning this child. 18 And all who heard it wondered at the things told to them by the shepherds.
8 Hag yth esa bugeledh y'n pow na, trigys y'n gonyow, ow kolyas dre nos dhe witha aga flock, 9 Hag otta, el an Arlodh a sevis a-dheragdha, ha golewder an Arlodh a splannas a-dro dhedha, hag own bras a's teva. 10 Ha'n el a leveris dhedha, 'Na berthewgh own, rag otta, my a dhre dhywgh nowodhow da a lowena veur hag a vydh rag oll an bobel, 11 bos genys ragowgh hedhyw yn cita Davydh Selwyas, neb yw Krist an Arlodh. 12 Ha hemm yw an tokyn dhywgh: hwi a gyv babi maylys yn lystennow hag a'y wrowedh yn presep.' 13 Ha distowgh yth esa gans an el routh veur a'n lu nevek ow kormel Duw, hag ow leverel, 14 'Gordhyans y'n ughelder dhe Dhuw, hag y'n bys kres dhe dus a volonjedh da.' 15 Ena, wosa an eledh dhe dhiberth dhyworta bys yn nev, yth esa an vugeledh ow leverel an eyl dh'y gila, 'Deun ni lemmyn dhe Bethlehem ha gweles an dra ma yw hwarvedhys, a wrug an Arlodh y dhiskwedhes dhyn' 16 Hag i a dheuth yn unn fyski ha kayos Maria ha Yosep, ha'n babi a'y wrowedh y'n presep. 17 Ha pan y'n gwelsons, i a dherivas an dra a veu leverys dhedha a-dro dhe'n flogh ma. 18 Ha myns a'n klewas a's teva marth a'n taklow derivys dhedha gans an vugeledh.

Unperturbed, David shook it off, sidestepped and deftly struck out with the hockey stick. The beast was gone. One blow from David was all it had taken. Now the auditorium was cleared of them. Only their corpses remained, sprawled here and there – and none of them looked like they would be moving about again any time soon. Quickly, he and I summoned one or two of the students who had lingered timorously at the exits – and there really were only one or two. The rest of the students were still running, we supposed. Together, we gathered five of the victims who seemed still to be living and carried their bloodied bodies to the Baillieu Library. It had not been a deep wound, David’s wound. It did not even require a stitch. But it had been enough to pass on the infection. And so, here he lay, a hero whose actions had saved the lives of some of those who now wished to cast him outside before he, too, ‘changed’. Fear trumps gratitude every time. “Not long now, Mate,” I whispered and mopped his brow again. Where had it come from, this infection? Short answer: I don’t know. This is not part of the story that I can tell – but I can tell you what I know and let you puzzle over it yourself. As we sheltered in the dubious protection of the Baillieu Library, we accessed a fairly beaten-up black and white TV that we found in the Head Librarian’s office. (Obviously, the library’s budget didn’t yet run to purchasing one of those expensive, new-fangled colour TV’s.) When we first tuned in, nothing of note. Everything was normal as far as the TV broadcasters were concerned – all the usual programmes: cooking, old movies, chat shows, cartoons – completely uninterrupted. There was no newsflash until over an hour after the creatures had burst in upon us in the French lecture. Then the first newsflash: sketchy and delivered in a jocular fashion by a disbelieving newsreader who concluded: “...Hey! Is this April Fools’ or what?!”
Andhistemprys, Davydh a shakyas dhe-ves an best. Ev a wrug kamm a- denewen ha’y weskel, meur y sleyghneth, gans y welenn hokki. Gyllys o an best. Unn hwaff dhiworth Davydh re via lowr. Lemmyn, klerhes anedha o an arethva. Ny remaynya travyth a-der aga horfow, gorlesys oll yn kyrghynn – ha nyns esa den anvarow vyth yntredha a waysa arta yn skon. Uskis, Davydh ha my a elwis dhe’n studhyoryon, dew po tri hepken, re darysa, meur aga ownekter, ogas dhe’n mallborthow. Yth esa remnant an studhyoryon hwath ow resek, dell heveli dhyn. Warbarth, ni a guntellas pymp vyktym a heveli bos hwath yn fyw ha degi aga horfow goesek dhe’n Lyverva Baillieu. Ny via goli down, goli Davydh. Nyns esa edhomm a wri hogen. Mes y fia goli lowr rag lesa an klevesans. Hag ytho, yth esa ev a’y worwedh, den bras y golonn. Ev re salwsa bywnansow an re a vynna lemmyn y dewlel yn-mes kyns ev dhe janjya keffrys. Pup-prys an own a wayn erbynn an gras. “Ny vydh hirneth lemmyn, ‘vata,” my a hwystras ha sygha y dal unnweyth arta. A byle y lammsa an klevesans ma? Gorthyp berr: ny wonn vy. Nyns yw hemma rann an hwedhel a allav derivas dhis – mes y hallav derivas pyth a wonn vy ha ty a yll ombrederi warnodho dha honan. Ha ni omskeusys yn-dann difresyans doutys an Lyverva Baillieu, ni a gavas pellwolok (gwynn ha du hy imajys ha nebes usyes o) yn soedhva Pennlyveryas. (Yn apert, nyns esa towlargh lowr an lyverva rag prena hwath pellwolok nowydh ha liwek hy imajys.) Y’n kynsa le, pan skwychsyn ni yn fyw an jynn koth ma, nyns esa travyth o marthek. Y’n tir-bellwolok, yth esa pup-tra oll herwydh usadow: keginieth, filmys koth, towlennow-glapp, gesdelinyansow – anwoderrys yn tien. Nyns esa lughesenn-nowodhow vyth erna dremensa moy es unn our wosa an groaduryon dhe dardha y’n areth frynkek. Ena, an kynsa lughesenn-nowodhow: heb manylyon ha kewsys yn fordh hwarthus. Lenner-nowodhow ankryjyk a worfennas an erthygel y’n for’na: “...Hay! Yw hemma dydh Foll-Ebrel?!” 11

‘When did I first begin to guess?’ he mused, searching back in memory. ‘Let me see - it was in the year that the White Council drove the dark power from Mirkwood, just before the Battle of Five Armies, that Bilbo found his ring. A shadow fell on my heart then, though I did not know yet what I feared. I wondered often how Gollum came by a Great Ring, as plainly it was - that at least was clear from the first. Then I heard Bilbo’s strange story of how he had “won” it, and I could not believe it. When I at last got the truth out of him, I saw at once that he had been trying to put his claim to the ring beyond doubt. Much like Gollum with his “birthday present”. The lies were too much alike for my comfort. Clearly the ring had an unwholesome power that set to work on its keeper at once. That was the first real warning I had that all was not well. I told Bilbo often that such rings were better left unused; but he resented it, and soon got angry. There was little else that I could do. I could not take it from him without doing greater harm; and I had no right to do so anyway. I could only watch and wait. I might perhaps have consulted Saruman the White, but something always held me back.’
‘P’eur hwrug vy dalleth dismygi?’ ev a omwovynnas, ow hwithra y gov. ‘Dell berthav kov – y’n keth vlydhen an Konsel Gwynn dhe estewlel an nerth tewl a-dhiworth Koes Murkwud, nebes kyns an Vatel a Bymp Lu yth o, pan dhiskudhas Bylbo y vysow. Skeus a goedhas war ow holonn dhe’n termyn na, kyn na wrug vy godhvos an pyth a wrug own dhymm. My a omwovynnas lieskweyth fatell wrug Gollum kavoes Bysow Meur, dell o yn apert - henn o kler a-dhesempis. Ena my a glywas hwedhel koynt Bylbo, fatell wrug ev y waynya, ha ny’n krysis. Pan wrug vy klywes an gwiryoneth a-dhiworto, my a welas a-dhesempis fatell wrug ev assaya gorra y berghennogeth a’n bysow yn-mes a dhout. Haval orth Gollum gans y “ro-pennbloedh”. An gowyow o re haval hag yth esa anes genev. Apert o bos nerth drog dhe’n bysow a wre oberi orth y withor a-dhistowgh. Henn o an kynsa gwarnyans gwir dhymm na vos puptra da. My a leveri orth Bylbo lieskweyth dhe vos gwell gwitha bysow a’n par na anusys; mes nyns o henna da ganso, hag ev a dho ha bos serrys yn skon. Ny yllis vy gul travyth arall. Ny yllis vy y sesya diworto heb gul damaj brassa; ha ny via ewn my dhe wul yndella yn neb kas. Ny yllis vy gul moy es mires orto ha gortos. Martesen y talvia dhymm hwithra kusul Saruman Gwynn, mes neppyth a’m hedhi pup-prys.’

Presently I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief—oh, no!—it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise, when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself—“It is nothing but the wind in the chimney—it is only a mouse crossing the floor,” or “It is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp.” Yes, he had been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions: but he had found all in vain. All in vain; because Death, in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him, and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel—although he neither saw nor heard—to feel the presence of my head within the room.
Skon, my a glewas hanasen vyghan, ha my a wodhva hy bos hanasen a vrowagh marwel. Ny veu hanasen na a bayn na a anken–na!–y feu an son isel ha tegys hag a sev dhyworth goles an enev pan yw ev gorhergys gans euth. My a wodhya yn ta an son na. Lies nos, dhe hanter-nos poran, pan goskas oll an bys, ev re omsevis y’m brest ow honan, yn-dann dhownhe, gans y dhasson euthyk, an browaghow hag a’m varyas. Dell lavarav, my a’n godhya yn ta. My a wodhva an pyth a omglewas an den koth, ha my a gemeras truedh orto, kyn finhwerthis y’m kolon. My a wodhva y fia ev ow korwedha difun a-dhia an kynsa tros byghan, pan dreylsa yn y weli. A-dhia ena, re bia y own ow kressya. Ev re bia owth assaya tybi y vos heb skila, mes ny alsa. Ev re bia ow leverel dh’y honan–“Nyns yw marnas an gwyns y’n chymbla–nyns yw marnas logosen ow treusi an leur”, po “Nyns yw marnas gryll re wryllyas unweyth hepken.” Yn tevri, ev re bia owth assaya omgonfortya gans an desevow ma: mes ev re gavsa aga bos euver oll. Euver oll: Ankow, hag ev ow neshe y fethesik, re’n skolksewsa gans y skeus du a-dheragdho, hag y vaylya. Hag y feu delanwes trist an skeus anweladow hag a wrug dhodho omglewes–kyn na’n gwelas na’n klewas–an lok a’m penn a-ji dhe’n stevel.

Having seen the glow at the window, I decided the best way to check it out was to exit from the small pedestrian gate on the West side of the cemetery (which faced Princes Park and was, presumably, unguarded) and then to circle back to the far side of the gatekeeper’s house. In this way, I would avoid having to go near the main (vehicular) gate to the South. This was immediately adjacent to machine gun emplacement and was, presumably, still guarded. My plan, to that extent, was sound. The Western gate was indeed unguarded but the main entrance had a guard seated on a chair and was armed with a sub- machine gun. As I circled around the far side of the gatekeeper’s house, this would have proven quite daunting – except for the fact that I could hear the guard’s resonant snoring long before I could see him. The guard, at least, thought the zombie terror had passed. This gave me time to observe without fear of being observed. There was no barrier at the gate – any vehicle could simply drive through if its driver chose to. And there was a number of vehicles still parked about 75m or so inside the gates – a reasonable distance from the sleeping guard: a good thing if one felt like trying to commandeer one of them. There were three jeeps and a khaki-coloured Holden utility. Did they have their keys in the ignition or would one have to spend precious time to ‘hot-wire’ them? (Not that a boy with a good Catholic upbringing would know about such things!) That would remain to be seen. I turned my attention to the gatekeeper’s residence itself. On the veranda, stood six pairs of boots, all neatly lined up in military fashion. Did this mean there was now a total of seven soldiers in the squad (assuming the guard still had his boots on)? Well, I decided it meant that there were no less than seven – maybe not everyone thought that their boots needed air. Also, there was a hat-rack, under cover, on the veranda and, on it, hung three slouch-hats, typical of the Australian Army.
Wosa my dhe weles an golow der an fenestri, my a dhetermyas an gwella fordh rag y hwithra. My a wrussa gasa an ynkleudhva der an yet vyghan a’n howlsedhes – esa a-dal Park an Pennsevik hag, yn hwirhaval, anwithys. Ena, my a gerdhsa yn kylgh ledan rag drehedhes du arall chi an porther. Y’n fordh na, my a allsa avoydya owth omneshe dhe borth a-dhyghowbarth an ynkleudhva – mayth esa gwrys devnydh herwydh usadow gans kerri-tan. Dres henna, yth esa an porth ma ogas dhe’n ynworrans rag jynn-setha poes (a via gwithys hwath, yn sur). Y provas ow thowl bos gwiw. Yn hwir, anwithys o an yet a’n Howlsedhes mes yth esa gwithyas a’y esedh a-rag an chyf entrans, dhe’n dyghowbarth, ha ganso gonn isel-jynn. Ha my omgylghyes a-dro dhe du arall chi an porther, an presens ma a withyas ha’y wonn a allsa bos poran kudynnyasek. Byttegyns, my a ylli klywes ronkow, meur aga dhasson, an gwithyas termyn hir kyns my dhe alloes y weles. An gwithyas ma, dhe’n lyha, a brederis nag esa na fella browagh-zombi. Hag ytho yth esa termyn dhymm rag observya - heb own a’m bos observyes. Nyns esa lett vyth orth an porth ma – oll an kerri-tan a allsa yn sempel tremena mar tewisas aga lywyoron gul yndella. Hag yth esa lies karr parkyes hwath a- dro dhe 75 m a-berth y’n yetys – pellder lowr dhiworth an gwithyas ow koska. Da o henna mar mynnys assaya sesya onan anedha. Yth esa tri jip ha les-karr Holden, kaki y liw. Esa dhedha dialhwedhyow y’ga florenn-enowans – po a via res spena termyn presyous rag aga gul tredanhes fast? (Ny wodhvia mab da, gans adhyskans stroeth ha katholik, a-dro dhe’n taklow a’n par na, heb mar!) Y trigsa henna bos gwelys. My a dreylyas ow aspians dhe drigva an porther hy honan. Yth esa ow sevel, war an borthva, dew ha dew, dewdhek botasenn – oll anedha yn aray breselek. A styrya hemma bos lemmyn seyth souder, yn sommenn, y’n para? (My a dheseva an gwithyas dhe vos hwath gans y votasennow.) Wel, my a erviras y stryryas henna nag esa le ages seyth souder - parhapp ny gryssa oll anedha bos edhomm a ayr dh’aga botasennow. Ynwedh, yth esa ynwedh a-berth y’n veranda, ha gwithys ganso, rastell-hattys ha warnodho tri hatt ledan medhel, herwydh usadow an Lu Ostralek.

(And would our way also be blocked by tanks and nervous troops with machine guns?) We’d give it a try – North Court and its surrounds were rapidly becoming a killing field for all the creatures that lingered there. We should not linger. We moved with the Northbound flow, across Tin Alley and between the Beaurepaire pool and the squash courts. We moved past the running track and the tennis courts. It was slow, halting progress. The undead then spilled across the cricket ground (oblivious to the damage this would cause to the finely manicured pitches.) For some reason, I led David to the side of the oval and stayed off the playing area. Was this merely respect or was something else clicking inside my head? A helicopter gunship edged away from North Court and followed the throng to the cricket oval, pouring hot metal death down on the pitch invaders. At the same time, the felt-like grass of the pitch itself was fearfully cut up by this careless strafing. It would take the curator weeks of pain-staking repair work. It seemed that I was the only one present who cared about such important matters! (I would have to take it up with the ACB (Australian Cricket Board) much later on.) We reached the North side of the oval where the fleeing throng was forced into the bottleneck of the footpath that ran between the cricket pavilion (and mountaineering clubrooms) and residential college buildings. Chaotic though this was, the helicopter gunship did not fire upon those who had reached this point. Perhaps there was a fear of striking the residential colleges where living survivors might yet be sheltering. I can’t be sure but the relief that came from this unexpected protection was palpable. Slowly, the river of undead snaking North along the path crept towards the Northernmost exit of the campus. Was escape at hand? Nope. At that point, the unmistakable chatter of a heavy machine gun shattered the temporary calm. This time, the sound was not from above but from ahead, from the direction of the exit to which we were heading. More high-pitched zombie wailing.
(Ha, dres henna, a via agan fordh lettyes gans tankow ha soudoryon, es aga movya, ow toen jynnys-setha?) Ni a assaysa y wul – y to ha bos Garth North ha’y gyrghynn park-ladhva rag oll an greadoryon esa ow triga ena. Ny dalvien triga. Ni a wayas gans an res troha’n wogledh, a-dreus Stretynn Sten hag yntra Poll- neuvya Beaurepaire ha’n kouryow-skwash. Ni a dremenas an resekva ha’n kouryow tennis. Lent ha hanter-lettyes o agan avonyans. Ena, an dus anvarow a skoelyas a-dreus an tiryow krykket. (Yn apert, ny wodhyens aga ynherdhyans warnedha dhe wul damaj meur dhe’n gwelyow, meur aga dyghtyans.) Drefenn neb acheson, my a ledyas Davydh a-denewen – ny entersyn an tiryow krykket. Martesen, revrons pur o – po, martesen, yth esa neppyth arall ow klykkya y’m brys vy. Gorhel-gonnys askell-dro a wayas dhiworth Garth North ha sywya an bush dhe’n tiryow krykket ha hi dinewys mernans metelyek war ynherdhyoryon an gwelyow. Kettermyn, gwels pur dheg an gwelyow o treghys yn trog gans an ridrans-tan ma heb rach. Y fia edhomm dhe’n keurador lies seythun a ober, meur y rach, rag ewnhe an damaj euthyk ma. Yth heveli ow bos ena an den unnik mayth esa govisyon a-dro dhe vaterow poesek a’n par na! (Res via dhymm kedhla an KKO (Kesva Krykket Ostralek) yn termyn a-dho.) Ni a dhrehedhas a-gledhbarth an tiryow le may feu konstrynys an bush ow fia yn konna-botell. An konna-botell ma o an hyns yntra’n babell-grykket (o gwrys devnydh keffrys avel stevellow rag kowethas an venedhoryon) ha drehevyansow an kolljiow annedhel. Derayus o. Byttegyns, nyns esa ow tenna an askell-dro war an re a dhrehedsa an le ma. Martesen, yth esa own dhe’n lywyer a frappyans erbynn an kolljiow may kalla goskeusi hwath treusvyworyon. Ny allav bos sur. Byttegyns, an diskeudh a dheuth dhymm dhiworth an difresyans ma nag yw gwaytyes o heglyw. Yth esa avon an dus anvarow ow kramya kepar ha sarf a-hys an hyns troha’n porth a-gledhbarth an kampus. O diank rybon ni? Nag o. Ena, y sonas klattrans na ylli bos kammgemmerys, klattrans a jynn-setha poes. Y feu brywys an kalmynsi berr. An prys ma, ny dheuth an son dhiworth an ebron mes dhiworth an hyns a-dheragon, dhiworth le mayth esa an porth a- gledhbarth. Yth esa moy skrijans an zombis, ughel y bych.

Apart from this half-forgotten lecture in jungle warfare, my only knowledge of military tactics came from reading (in Latin) about Rome’s wars with Carthage. Naturally, I still thought of Hannibal as a ‘gun’ General but, given that I didn’t have ready access to any battle elephants, I thought the valuable lessons I had learned from this reading were likely to be of limited use in dealing with the zombie apocalypse – or, for that matter, with any counter-offensive that might then be under weigh. After playing in my mind with the remembered fragments of the lecture from the reg, I turned to David – who had just listened to the radio with me. (Mildly interested – comprehension? I guess next to zero.) “Okay, David, we can forget about Hannibal,” I commenced (David had studied Latin as well). “Let’s think about our time together in the cadets. If the Army was going to form a defensive perimeter around the docklands area, how would they go about it? How far from the docks would they place the perimeter? As far as Central Melbourne? As far as here, at the university?” Naturally, he didn’t answer me. I was just using him as a sounding board. His eyes, however, did seem to look at me quizzically – if dead eyes could ever do that. We still sat in the Activities Office, each of us on one side of the desk upon which sat the transistor radio, currently our portal to the outside world. We sat for a while staring at one another – my mind was racing. His mind ....? Well, I didn’t know what was going on in there - maybe more than I realised. This moment of quiet reflection was abruptly interrupted: ‘Gween’, the zombies’ pet cat, had apparently wandered by and decided to join the party. (She obviously had the run of the building and feared none of its current residents.) She leapt nimbly onto the desk, rubbed against my unprotected arm, bit it sharply and then sauntered over to David as if nothing had happened. The wretch! David, of course, took the furry beast into his arms and clumsily started petting it. In return, the mainly black animal miaowed its appreciation at him, in a decidedly cutesy fashion, and started to purr loudly. After looking adoringly into my brother’s dead eyes for a time, Gween turned her face to me and hissed with apparent conviction.
A-der an areth hanter-ankevys ma a-dro dhe vresel yn gwylgoes, y teuth ow skians tanow a daktegow breselek dhiworth redya (yn Latin) a-dro dhe’n breselyow gans Karthaj. Heb mar, my a grysi hwath Honibal dhe vos pennhembrenkyas awenek mes, drefenn na yllyn kavoes olifansow-batel vyth y’n tor’na, my a brederis na via pur euver an dyskansow talvosek a dhysksen vy. Henn yw leverel, pur stroethys a via ow devnydh anedha rag dyghtya droglamm an zombis – po, gans henna, rag dos erbynn neb gorthomsettyans a allsa bos dallethys ena. Wosa gwari y’m brys vy gans temmyn areth an reg a borthsen kov, my a dreylyas dhe Dhavydh neb re woslowsa orth an radyo genev. (Nebes byghan y les, y gonvedhes o ...? Mann po ogas.) “Da lowr, a Dhavydh, ni a yll ankevi Honibal,” a dhallathis. (Davydh re via studhyer Latinek genev.) “Gwren prederi a-dro dh’agan termyn warbarth avel prentys-soudoryon. Mar mynna tus an lu furvya kylghvusur omwithek a-dro dhe diryow an porthow, fatell wrussens i henna? Dhe by pellder dhiworth an porthow a worrsens i aga honan? Bys Melbourne kresel? Bys omma, an bennskol?” Ny dheuth dhiworto gorthyp vyth – heb mar. Yn hwir, yth esov orth y wul kepar hag astell-senyans. Byttegyns, yth heveli y dhewlagas ev dhe vires orthymm yn unn wovynn – mar kylli dewlagas marow gul henna. Yth eson ni owth esedha hwath y’n Soedhva Bywderyow, pub huni ahanan dhe unn du an desk le mayth esa ow sevel an radyo-transystor, agan portal unnik dhe’n ledanna bys y’n tor’ na. Y remaynsyn owth esedha pols, ow lagatta orth an eyl dh’y gila. Yth esa ow brys vy ow resek toethmen. Y vrys ev ...? Wel, ny wodhyen pyth a hwarva ynno – martesen moy a draow es dell yllyn godhvos. An pols ma a ombrederans hebask a veu goderrys heb gwarnyans: ‘Gwin’, kath veurgerys an zombis, re wandersa a-ogas hag ervira dhe omjunya gans an fest. (Yn apert, hi a ylli mos der an drehevyans dien ha ny berthi own vyth a’n drigoryon erell.) Hi a lammas yn skav war an desk hag omrutya erbynn ow bregh anwithys - ha’y vratha tynn. A-dhistowgh, hi a gerdhas yn lent dhe Dhavydh kepar ha pan hwarsa mann - an kasadow! Heb mar, Davydh a gemmeras an goedhvil blewek yn y dhiwvregh ha dalleth hy handla heb kreft. Yn attal, an enyval ma, du y vlew y’n vrassa rann, a viowlas hy gras dhodho, yn fordh meur y tekter apert, ha dalleth purrya yn ughel. Wosa hy mires yn unn wordhya y’n dhewlagas dres termyn hir, Gwin a dreylyas hy fas dhymmo vy ha sia, kler hy forpos. 137

2 CORINTHIANS 7 1Therefore, since we have these promises, dear friends, let us purify ourselves from everything that contaminates body and spirit, perfecting holiness out of reverence for God. Paul’s Joy Over the Church’s Repentance 2Make room for us in your hearts. We have wronged no one, we have corrupted no one, we have exploited no one. 3I do not say this to condemn you; I have said before that you have such a place in our hearts that we would live or die with you. 4I have spoken to you with great frankness; I take great pride in you. I am greatly encouraged; in all our troubles my joy knows no bounds. 5For when we came into Macedonia, we had no rest, but we were harassed at every turn—conflicts on the outside, fears within. 6But God, who comforts the downcast, comforted us by the coming of Titus, 7and not only by his coming but also by the comfort you had given him. He told us about your longing for me, your deep sorrow, your ardent concern for me, so that my joy was greater than ever. 8Even if I caused you sorrow by my letter, I do not regret it. Though I did regret it—I see that my letter hurt you, but only for a little while— 9yet now I am happy, not because you were made sorry, but because your sorrow led you to repentance. For you became sorrowful as God intended and so were not harmed in any way by us. 10Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death. 11See what this godly sorrow has produced in you: what earnestness, what eagerness to clear yourselves, what indignation, what alarm, what longing, what concern, what readiness to see justice done. At every point you have proved yourselves to be innocent in this matter. 12So even though I wrote to you, it was neither on account of the one who did the wrong nor on account of the injured party, but rather that before God you could see for yourselves how devoted to us you are. 13By all this we are encouraged. In addition to our own encouragement, we were especially delighted to see how happy Titus was, because his spirit has been refreshed by all of you. 14I had boasted to him about you, and you have not embarrassed me. But just as everything we said to you was true, so our boasting about you to Titus has proved to be true as well. 15And his affection for you is all the greater when he remembers that you were all obedient, receiving him with fear and trembling. 16I am glad I can have complete confidence in you.
2 KORINTHIANYS 7 1Rakhenna a-ban eus dhyn an ambosow ma, karadowyon, gwren glanhe agan honan dhiworth pub defolans a gig hag a spyrys, ow kul dhe sansoleth bos perfydh y'n own a Dhuw. Joy Powl orth Edrek an Eglos 2Gwrewgh spas ragon yn agas kolonnow; ny gammwrussyn erbynn denvyth, ny pystigsyn denvyth gans mona, ny doellsyn denvyth. 3Ny lavarav hemma rag agas dampnya; seulabrys my re leveris agas bos yn agan kolonnow, dhe verwel war-barth ha dhe vewa war-barth. 4Hardhder meur a'm beus orthowgh hwi; meur yw ow bostyans ynnowgh. My re beu lenwys a gonfort; yn oll agan galar ow joy a balsha. 5Yn tevri, pan dheuthen ni yn Masedonia nyns esa dh'agan korf powes vyth, mes galar a berthsyn ni yn pub fordh; strifow a-ves ahanan, own a-ji dhyn. 6Mes Duw, neb a gonfort an re uvel, a'gan konfortyas dre dhevedhyans Titus; 7ha nyns o unnsel der y dhevedhyans, mes ynwedh der an konfort may feu ev konfortys a-dro dhywgh; ev a dherivas dhyn a-dro dh'agas hwans freth, agas kynvann, agas gwres a-barth dhymm, may lowenhis vy dhe voy. 8Rag mara'gas keudhis vy der ow lyther, ny'm beus edrek; kynth y'm bo edrek yn tevri, rag my a wel ow lyther dh'agas keudhi, mes unnsel a verr spas. 9Lemmyn my a lowenha; ny'n gwrav drefenn agas bos keudhys, mes drefenn agas bos keudhys dhe edrek; rag duwek o agas keudh, ma na vewgh hwi pystigys kammenn genen. 10Rag keudh duwek a ober edrek heb govisyon, bys yn selwyans; mes keudh a'n bys a ober mernans. 11Otta lemmyn, an keudh duwek ma, dredho pana frethter a veu oberys ynnowgh, pana omaskusyans, pana sorrvann, pana own, pana hwans ter, pana dhiwysygneth, pana gessydhyans. Yn pup-tra hwi re ombrovas ankablus y'n mater ma. 12Ytho, kyn skrifis vy dhywgh, nyns o drefenn an den a wrussa kamm, na drefenn an den a wodhavsa an kamm, mes may fe diskwedhys dhywgh dherag Duw agas diwysygneth a'gan govis. 13Dre hemma ni re beu konfortys. Mes moy es agan konfort, ni a lowenhas hwath moy drefenn joy Titus, hag a veu disyghys y spyrys genowgh hwi oll; 14rag mar postis vy dhodho a-dro dhywgh, ny'm beu meth, mes par dell o gwir an traow oll a leversyn dhywgh, keffrys agan bostyans dhe Titus re beu prevys gwir. 15Hag ystynnys dhywgh dhe voy yw y golonn hag ev ow perthi kov agas bos gostydh, hwi oll, pan y'n degemmersowgh gans own ha krena. 16My a lowenha y'm beus fydhyans leun ynnowgh.

“Certainly, Sir,” I stammered. “But our comrade is in particularly bad shape and I ...” “Sergeant, I have seen action in Korea, during the ‘Malayan Emergency’ and in ‘Nam as well. How many broken and dismembered human beings do you think I’ve seen during that service?” The question was patronising – but he did have a point. I didn’t answer. I was running out of ideas. “Open the box, Sergeant! That is a direct order!” I commenced, slowly and with feigned difficulty, to unscrew the fastenings that held down the lid. Could I delay the process until we reached the next stop? Maybe – but probably not. The Major became impatient with my progress and started to bellow at me – just as he had at the private who had carried his luggage. David was picking up on this aggravation, of course. Firstly, he could hear the angry words being directed at me and, secondly, I’m sure he could empathetically sense my growing anxiety and fear. After several long minutes, I started unscrewing the final fastening. The Major roughly pushed me aside with a curse and completed the task himself. “This is not going to be pretty,” I thought. But what could I do? As the Major commenced to lift the lid, a grey arm clad in military fatigues shot through the gap between lid and box. David’s hand closed swiftly and securely around the Major’s windpipe – and, quietly but efficiently, crushed it. David had made his first kill in the flickering of an eyelid. I knew better than to try and intervene now – there would have been no purpose. The Major’s limp body slumped to the floor of the carriage and David freed himself from the coffin. David fell upon his prey and feasted. Soon, the floor of the carriage was swimming in blood. David’s busily gnawing face was buried deeply on the flesh of his victim, as seemed to be customary among zombies. So much for getting him cleaned up. So much for fresh clothing. Was this a good time simply to cut my brother adrift? Yes, probably, on any rational consideration of the circumstances.
“Yn sur, Syrr,” a leveris yn greg. “Byttegyns, agan kothman yw yn furv drog dres eghenn ha my ....” “A Serjont, my re welas batelyow yn Korea, dres ‘Goredhomm Malayek’ hag yn ‘Nam ynwedh. Pygemmys tus, terrys ha diskevelysys, a brederydh my dhe weles dres an termynyow na?” Y woynnn o yn kler dhiworth ughel orth isel – mes yth esa poynt da dhodhdo. Ny worthybis mann. Nyns esa tybyansow na fella dhymm lemmyn. “Igor an boks, a Serjont! Henn yw arghadow ewn!” My a dhallathas, yn lent ha gans kaletter fayntys, androgentra an kevrennow a synsi an gorher. A yllyn vy delatya an igeryans bys pan dhrehedsyn an nessa gorsav? Martesen ya – mes, dell heveli, na. Uskis, an Ughkapten a gollas y berthyans gans ow avonsyans ha dalleth arma orthymm – kepar dell armsa orth an souder re dhegsa y fardellow. Yth esa Davydh ow tegemmeres blas an trobel ma. Y’n kynsa le, ev a ylli klywes an geryow serrys ha, y’n nessa le, ev a ylli omglywes ow fienas ha’m own ow tevi – der ow holm broderel. Wosa nebes mynysennow hir, my a dhallathas androgentra an diwettha kevrenn. An Ughkapten a’m herdhyas a-denewen yn harow, molleth war y lev, rag gorfenna an oberenn. “Ny vydh hemma teg,” a brederis vy. Byttegyns, pyth a yllyn gul? Hag an Ughkapten dallethys drehevel an gorher, bregh loes, gwiskys yn uniform breselyek, a dennas der an aswa yntra’n gorher ha’n boks. A- dhistowgh, leuv Davydh a settyas dalghenn war vryansenn an Ughkapten – hag, meur y frether mes yn kosel, ev a’n kropyas. Davydh re wrussa y gynsa ladh yn flykkrans kroghen-lagas. Gwell o na wrav assaya mellya y’n mater lemmyn – ny via porpos da vyth. Korf an Ughkapten a goedhas dhe leur an koch ha Davydh omrydhhes dhiworth an eler. Davydh a goedhas kekeffrys war y breyth ha gul gwledh anodho. Yn skon, yth esa gorherys an leur gans goes. Yth esa fas Davydh ow knias, bysi ha down, war gig an vyktym. (Henn o herwydh usadow an zombis, dell hevel.) Dillas fresk? Tronkys? Henn re via tybyans da, a ny via? Termyn da rag gasa ow broder dhe’n mor? Ya, yn hwirhaval – wosa konsydrans herwydh reson oll an kyrghynnyow.

REVELATION 14 The Lamb and the 144,000 1Then I looked, and there before me was the Lamb, standing on Mount Zion, and with him 144,000 who had his name and his Father’s name written on their foreheads. 2And I heard a sound from heaven like the roar of rushing waters and like a loud peal of thunder. The sound I heard was like that of harpists playing their harps. 3And they sang a new song before the throne and before the four living creatures and the elders. No one could learn the song except the 144,000 who had been redeemed from the earth. 4These are those who did not defile themselves with women, for they remained virgins. They follow the Lamb wherever he goes. They were purchased from among mankind and offered as firstfruits to God and the Lamb. 5No lie was found in their mouths; they are blameless. The Three Angels 6Then I saw another angel flying in midair, and he had the eternal gospel to proclaim to those who live on the earth—to every nation, tribe, language and people. 7He said in a loud voice, “Fear God and give him glory, because the hour of his judgment has come. Worship him who made the heavens, the earth, the sea and the springs of water.” 8A second angel followed and said, “ ‘Fallen! Fallen is Babylon the Great,’ which made all the nations drink the maddening wine of her adulteries.” 9A third angel followed them and said in a loud voice: “If anyone worships the beast and its image and receives its mark on their forehead or on their hand, 10they, too, will drink the wine of God’s fury, which has been poured full strength into the cup of his wrath. They will be tormented with burning sulfur in the presence of the holy angels and of the Lamb. 11And the smoke of their torment will rise for ever and ever. There will be no rest day or night for those who worship the beast and its image, or for anyone who receives the mark of its name.” 12This calls for patient endurance on the part of the people of God who keep his commands and remain faithful to Jesus. 13Then I heard a voice from heaven say, “Write this: Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on.” “Yes,” says the Spirit, “they will rest from their labor, for their deeds will follow them.” Harvesting the Earth and Trampling the Winepress 14I looked, and there before me was a white cloud, and seated on the cloud was one like a son of man with a crown of gold on his head and a sharp sickle in his hand. 15Then another angel came out of the temple and called in a loud voice to him who was sitting on the cloud, “Take your sickle and reap, because the time to reap has come, for the harvest of the earth is ripe.” 16So he who was seated on the cloud swung his sickle over the earth, and the earth was harvested. 17Another angel came out of the temple in heaven, and he too had a sharp sickle. 18Still another angel, who had charge of the fire, came from the altar and called in a loud voice to him who had the sharp sickle, “Take your sharp sickle and gather the clusters of grapes from the earth’s vine, because its grapes are ripe.” 19The angel swung his sickle on the earth, gathered its grapes and threw them into the great winepress of God’s wrath. 20They were trampled in the winepress outside the city, and blood flowed out of the press, rising as high as the horses’ bridles for a distance of 1,600 stadia.
DISKWEDHYANS 14 Kan an 144,000 1Ha my a welas, hag otta, an Oen ow sevel war an menydh Sion, ha ganso kans peswar ha dew-ugens mil, gans y hanow ev ha hanow y Das skrifys war aga thal. 2Ha my a glewas son dhiworth nev kepar ha son lies dowr, ha son taran vras, ha'n son a glewis o kepar ha telynnyoryon ow telynnya gans aga thelynnow. 3Hag i a ganas kan nowydh a-dherag an tron hag a-dherag an peswar kreatur bew ha'n henavogyon, ha denvyth ny ylli dyski an gan marnas an kans peswar ha dew-ugens mil re beu prenys dhiworth an norvys. 4An re ma yw neb na veu mostys gans benynes, rag aga bos chast. An re ma yw neb a hol an Oen pyle pynag yth ello. An re ma a veu prenys dhiworth mab-den, kynsa frut dhe Dhuw ha dhe'n Oen. 5Hag yn aga ganow nyns o gow kevys. Dinamm yns i. Negysyow an Tri El 6Ha my a welas ken el ow nija yn kres nev gans an aweyl heb hedhi dhe bregoth dhe neb a drig war an norvys, ha dhe bub kenedhel ha loeth ha taves ha pobel, 7ow leverel, ughel y lev, ‘Porth own a Dhuw, ha ro glori dhodho, rag bos eur y vreus devedhys, ha gwra gormel neb a wrug nev ha nor ha'n mor ha'n fentynyow a dhowrow.’ 8Ha ken el, an nessa anedha, a holyas, ow leverel, ‘Koedha, koedha a wrug Babylon vras, hag a wrug dhe oll kenedhlow eva a'n gwin a sorr hy fornikashyon.’ 9Ha ken el, an tressa anedha, a'ga holyas, ow leverel, ughel y lev, ‘Den mar kordh an best ha'y imaj, ha degemmeres y verk war y dal po war y dhorn, 10ev ynwedh a wra eva a'n gwin a'n sorr a Dhuw, dinewys heb gwannhe y'n hanaf a'y sorr, hag ev a vydh tormentys gans tan ha loskven a-dherag an eledh sans hag a-dherag an Oen. 11Ha mog aga thorment a wra yskynna trank heb worfenn ha nyns eus powes dydh ha nos dhe neb a wordh an best ha'y imaj ha pypynag a dhegemmerro merk y hanow.’ 12Ottomma perthyans an syns, neb a with gorhemmynnow Duw, ha fydh Yesu. 13Ha my a glewas lev dhiworth nev ow leverel, ‘Skrif: Gwynnvys an re varow a verow y'n Arloedh alemma rag.’ ‘Ya’, yn-medh an Spyrys, ‘may hallons i powes a'ga lavur, rag yma aga oberow orth aga siwya.’ Trevas an Norvys 14Ha my a welas, hag otta, kommolenn wynn, ha war an gommolenn nebonan owth esedha kepar ha Mab den gans kurun owrek war y benn ha kromman lymm yn y dhorn. 15Ha ken el a dheuth yn-mes a'n tempel ow karma, ughel y lev, dhe neb o esedhys war an gommolenn, ‘Gwra gorra dha gromman ha mysi, rag bos devedhys an eur dhe vysi rag bos adhves trevas an dor.’ 16Ha neb o esedhys war an gommolenn a swaysyas y gromman war an dor, ha mysys veu an dor. 17Ha ken el a dheuth yn-mes a'n tempel usi yn nev, ha ganso kromman lymm ynwedh. 18Ha ken el a dheuth yn-mes a'n alter, ha ganso charj a'n tan, hag ev a gewsis ughel y lev, dhe neb a'n jevo an gromman lymm, ow leverel, ‘Gorr dha gromman lymm ha kuntell trevas gwinwydhenn an dor, rag bos adhves hy grappys.’ 19Ha'n el a swaysyas y gromman dhe'n dor, ha kuntell trevas gwinwydhenn an dor ha'y thewlel y'n winwask vras a'n sorr a Dhuw. 20Ha'n winwask a veu trettys a-ves dhe'n sita, ha goes a dheuth yn-mes a'n winwask, mar ughel avel fronnow an vergh, rag mil erowhys ha hwegh kans.