The fisherman oor Kornies

The fisherman

Vertalings in die woordeboek Engels - Kornies

An pyskador

voorbeelde

The fisherman’s advice is that we should not put to sea today because the sea is very rough.
Kussul an pyskador yw na vorryn hedhyw drefen bos an mor pur arow. [pres subjunc]

The fisherman
/ An pyskador / / /

The fisherman are ready now
An byskadoryon yw parys lemmyn

The fisherman pulled the anchor and the boat sailed straight away.
An pyskador a dennas an ankor ha'n kok a wolyas a-dhistowgh.

The fisherman pulled the anchor and the boat sailed straight away.
An pyskador a dennas an ankor ha'n kok a woelyas a-dhistowgh.

The fisherman’s advice is that we should not put to sea today because the sea is very rough. / Present subjunctive of mora, ‘to put to sea’, indicating desire or suggestion.
Kussul an pyskador yw na vorryn hedhyw drefen bos an mor pur arow. /

How beautiful the tops of the mountains are in the sunset, the red sun above them. I don't understand anything about it. What did Mary say about the Isle of Man? She didn't say a word about it. The milk in the saucepan boiled at the same time as the water in the kettle. I want to ask Jenifer that or in her place someone else. The fisherman pulled the anchor and the boat sailed straight away.
Ass yns teg, pennow an menydhyow y'n howlsedhes, an howl rudh a-ughta. Ny wonn konvedhes travydh yn y gever. Pandr'a leveris Maria yn kever Manow? Ny leveris hi ger yn hy hever. An leth y'n badell a brojyas yn kettermyn ha'n dowr y'n galter. Yma hwans dhymm a wovynn henna orth Jenefer po yn hy le nebonan arall. An pyskador a dennas an ankor ha'n kok a woelyas a-dhistowgh.

The population amounted to nine fisherman and their families in 1790.Charles Rashleigh, an Englishman from Devon, moved to the village and began the construction of a harbour.
An poblans a niveras naw pyskador ha'ga theylu yn 1790. Charles Rashleigh, Sows a-dhiworth Dewnans, a removas dhe'n dreveglos ha dalleth drehevyans porth.

This wasn’t the voice of a man tossed on the waves to the beach from some small unseen boat. I’m certain. I know the voice of each fisherman here. I know the voice of a man. This was the voice of the sea itself. I can’t describe it any other way.
Nag o hebma lev den tewlys war’n todnow dhe’n treth dhort neb kok bian hag anwelys. Sur o’ma. My a ajon lev pub den an puskes obma. Thera vy oh ajon lev den. Lev an mor y honan o hebma. Ny alja vy deskrifa ev en for’ aral veth.

Young Yowann Tregaskis of Tollowarn, son of a fisherman, relives the history of his people through his daydreams, giving life to stories knotted together with bits of magic, love, queens, kings, pirates and miners.
Yowann Tregaskys yowynk, mab pyskador, a dhasvyw istori y dus dres y hunrosow, ow kul bywnans dhe hwedhlow kelmys warbarth gans temmigow a hudel, kerensa, myghternesow, myghternyow, morladron ha tus val.

My grandfather, Reuel Sampson, was born in Eden Terrace, Newlyn, in 1892. He was the youngest of seven children. His father, William, was a fisherman from Newlyn. Indeed, the Sampson family had been fishermen in Newlyn for many generations.
Ow thas gwynn, Reuel Sampson, a veu genys yn Terras Eden, Lulynn, y’n vledhen 1892. Ev o an yowynka a seyth flogh. Y das, William, o pyskador a Lulynn. Yn hwir, an teylu Sampson re bia pyskadoryon yn Lulynn dres meur a henedhow.

My age is three score and five. I am a poor fisherman. But since the time I was a boy, I won’t approach the beach without kissing my wife, hugging my child and hoping never again to hear the salt voice of the sea.
Bloodh vy ew trei ugens ha pemp. Thera vy den bohojek an puskes. Bes dhia termyn my veu maw, na venjama nessa an treth heb abma dhe wreg vy, byrla flogh vy ha gwaytyas na wra’ma nevra klowes arta lev holan an mor.

fisherman n. pescador m., pl. pescadors, pescadororyon WR, TH. The -s pl. occurs x 2 but -oryon is unattested.; den (an) puskes;
fisherman n. pescador m., pl. pescadors, pescadororyon WR, TH. The -s pl. occurs x 2 but -oryon is unattested.; den (an) puskes;

In 1776, the year before Dolly died, a letter appeared in Cornish from a fisherman called William Bodinar, also from Mousehole. In this letter he describes how he learnt the language from other fishermen when he was young, but according to him fewer and fewer people were using it these days. William knew Dolly and they often spoke. As well as Dolly, William said he knew five other people in the village who could also speak Cornish. This could mean that people in other places could speak Cornish.
Yn 1776, bledhen kyns Dolly dhe verwel, yth omdhiskwedhas lyther yn Kernowek gans pyskador henwys William Bodinar, keffrys a Borthenys. Y'n lyther ma y teskrif fatel dhyskas an yeth a-dhyworth pyskadoryon erel pan o va yowynk, mes herwydh ev yth esa le ha le a dus orth hy devnydhya dhe'n pols na. William a aswonnas Dolly hag i a gowsis yn fenowgh. A-barth dhe Dolly y leveris William ev dhe aswon pymp person aral y'n dreveglos a wodhya kowsel Kernowek. Y halsa hemm styrya bos tus yn leow erel a wodhya kowsel Kernowek.

I went walking yesterday And visited the old church There is in that place, and I swear it An extremely large stone, circular in shape St Levan is the name of the hamlet and the saint And unless you are a crippled man or woman You’d do best to rush off to the valley For the cleft is ever increasing And while I was walking on the cliff It went on growing still more I reckon without doubt the end of the world Is coming to us before long According to the old legend St Levan would like to sit On the granite rock When good fisherman, he felt tired So he said, if the cleft should become A gap big enough to let through A loaded horse bearing two panniers At that very hour, judgement day will be upon us There’s nothing we can do about these prophetic words I reckon there’s no doubt the end of the world Is coming to us before long. St Levan, can it be That our Father is so angry at the state of the world That by the large cleft in your grey stone He is warning us that our judgement day is about to come – from end to end. I went walking yesterday And visited the old church There is in that place, and I swear it An extremely large stone, circular in shape St Levan is the name of the hamlet and the saint And unless you are a crippled man or woman You’d do best to rush off to the valley For the cleft is ever increasing And while I was walking on the cliff It went on growing still more; I reckon without doubt the end of the world Is coming to us before long! Is coming to us before long! Is coming to us before long!
Yth esen vy ow kerdhes de Ha mos a wrug dhe'n eglos koth Ena yma, ha my a'n te Men euthek bras ha krenn y roth Selevan yw hanow a'n dre ha'n sans Ha marnas hwi yw den po benyn mans Gwell yw dhywgh hwi mos toth da bys dhe’n nans Rag bos an fals byth owth ynkressya Ha my ow kerdhes war an als Y hwrug hi pesya hwath Dhe'm tybyans vy, diwedh an bys heb mar A dheu dhyn hware! Herwydh an henhwedhel ankoth Y hwre Selevan esedha War'n men growanek a'y vodh Pan o skwith an pyskador da Ha del leveris ev, an fals pan vo Bolgh ledan lowr tremena may hallo Margh kargys gans dew banyer warnodho Dhe'n eur bur na dydh breus a vydh dhyn ni A'n geryow profosek ma Travydh ny yllyn ni gul Dhe'm tybyans vy diwedh an bys heb mar A dheu dhyn hware! Selevan, a yll bos Agan Tas ni mar serrys yn kever studh an bys Dre fals bras y'th fen loos Ma’gan gwarn ev bos distowgh agan dydh breus, hys-a-hys Yth esen vy ow kerdhes de Ha mos a wrug dhe'n eglos koth Ena yma, ha my a'n te Men euthek bras ha krenn y roth Selevan yw hanow a'n dre ha'n sans Ha marnas hwi yw den po benyn mans Gwell yw dhywgh hwi mos toth da bys dhe'n nans Rag bos an fals byth owth ynkressya Ha my ow kerdhes war an als Y hwrug hi pesya hwath Dhe'm tybyans vy, diwedh an bys heb mar A dheu dhyn hware! A dheu dhyn hware! A dheu dhyn hware!

The fishing industry in Newquay changed a great deal between 1960 and 1970, from practices which had been followed for more than a century, to more modern ones. Rod Lyon, a fisherman there, records these changes.
Diwysyans pyskessa dhe Dewynn Pleustri a janjyas ynter an blydhynyow 1960 ha 1970 a-dhiworth a fordh re beu sywyas dre voy as kansblydhen troha’n fordh yw sywys y’n jydh hedhyw. Rod Lyon, pyskador ena, a rekord an janjyow ma.

My age is sixty-five. I'm a poor fisherman. I learnt Cornish when I was a boy. I have been to sea with my father and five other men in a fishing boat. I heard scant a single word of English in the boat for a whole week. I never saw a Cornish book. I learnt Cornish going to sea with the old men. There are no more than four or five in our village who can talk Cornish now, old people, eighty years old. Cornish is all forgotten by the young people.
Bloodh vy yw trei ugens ha pemp. Yth erov vy den boghojek an puskes. My a wrug deski Kernowek [en] termyn [may] feu vy maw. My a veu dhe mor gen sira vy ha pemp den moy e'n kok. My a wrug skant lowr klowes udn ger Sowsnek kowsys e'n kok rag seythen war-barth. Na wrugav vy byskath gweles lever Kernowek. My a dheski Kernowek [ow] moas dhe mor gen tus koth. Nag eus moy avel pajar po pemp e'n drev nei a ell klappya Kernowek lebmyn, pobel koth, pajar ugens bloodh. Kernowek yw oll nakevys gen pobel yonk.