by old people oor Kornies

by old people

Vertalings in die woordeboek Engels - Kornies

gen tus koth

voorbeelde

by old people
/ gen tus koth / / /

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.

William Pryce was born in Redruth the son of Samuel, a surgeon. He became a surgeon himself, working in Redruth. He was encouraged by William Borlase to gather his notes about mining in a book. Pryce used manuscripts about the history of mining in Cornwall, his own notes and information from other people, and his Mineralogia Cornubiensis was published in 1778. In his Archaeologia Cornu-Britannica, published in 1790, he collected the works of Tonkin, Hals and others, and added to them information that he had gathered by speaking to old people who claimed that they spoke the language. Price died in December 1790 and was buried in Redruth.
Genys veu William Pryce yn Resrudh, mab Samuel, leuvvedhek. Kenerthys veu gans William Borlase dhe guntell y notennow a-dro dhe valweyth yn lyver. Pryce a wrug devnydh a vammskrifow a-dro dhe istori balweyth yn Kernow, y notennow y honan, ha derivadow dhyworth tus erel, ha’y Mineralogia Cornubiensis a veu dyllys yn 1778. Yn y Archaeologia Cornu-Britannica, dyllys yn 1790, ev a guntellas an oberow a Tonkin, Hals ha tus erel, hag a geworras dhedha derivadow re guntellas ev dre gewsel orth tus koth a leveris i dhe gewsel an yeth. Price a verwis mis Kevardhu 1790 hag a veu ynkleudhys yn Resrudh.

Old knives are long enough as swords for hobbit-people,' he said. 'Sharp blades are good to have, if Shire-folk go walking, east, south, or far away into dark and danger.' Then he told them that these blades were forged many long years ago by Men of Westernesse: they were foes of the Dark Lord, but they were overcome by the evil king of Carn Dûm in the Land of Angmar.
‘Kellili koth yw mar hir ha kledhedhyow rag tus hobyt,’ a leveris ev. ‘Lownyow lymm yw da aga havoes, mar kwra mos tus an Shayr yn unn gerdhes, est, soth, po pell dhe-ves yn tewlder ha danjer.’ Ena ev a leveris dhedha bos govelys an lownyow ma nans yw blydhynyow hir pals gans Gwer a Westerness: i o eskerens an Arloedh Du, mes fethys ens i gans myghtern fel Karn Dum yn tir Angmar.

The people in the Marish were friendly with the Bucklanders, and the authority of the Master of the Hall (as the head of the Brandybuck family was called) was still acknowledged by the farmers between Stock and Rushey. But most of the folk of the old Shire regarded the Bucklanders as peculiar, half foreigners as it were. Though, as a matter of fact, they were not very different from the other hobbits of the Four Farthings. Except in one point: they were fond of boats, and some of them could swim.
Tus y’n Marysh o kowethek orth an Buklandoryon , hag awtorita ‘Mester An Hel’ (dell veu henwys penn an teylu Brandibuk), a veu aswonnys gans an tiogyon ynter Stokk ha Rushi. Mes brassa rann a dus an Shayr Koth a dybis an Buklandoryon dhe vos koynt, hanter-estrenyon martesen. Mes yn hwir, nyns ens i pur dhihaval diworth hobytow a’n peswar ferdhyn. Marnas dres unn fordh: kokow o da gansa, ha nebes anedha a allas neuvya.

♦ we see the y. people speak it less and less nei a wel an düs yonk dhe y clappya le ha le NB; C. has all been forgotten by y. folk Kernôwek ew oll nakevys gen pobel yonk WBod; an old man married to a y. woman den coth demedhys dhe venyn yonk NB; take the y. child and his mother and go to Egypt kebmer an flogh yonk ha y dhama ha ke dhe Egyp WR; over the place where the y. child was dres leb/m/a era an flogh yonk WR; seek the y. child surely whilas sür rag an flogh yonk WR; y. children love food flehes yonk a gar boos BM; y. and old yonk ha loos RD; when I was y. termyn my veu yonk; whether a y. man or an old man beva den yonk bo den coth PA; nice y. man, you are wandering den yonk wheg, gwandra a wreth RD; a y. child in white clothes üdn flogh yonk gwydn y dhilhas PA; for y. and old rag yonk ha loos RD; a handsome y. man den yonk teg BM
♦ we see the y. people speak it less and less nei a wel an düs yonk dhe y clappya le ha le NB; C. has all been forgotten by y. folk Kernôwek ew oll nakevys gen pobel yonk WBod; an old man married to a y. woman den coth demedhys dhe venyn yonk NB; take the y. child and his mother and go to Egypt kebmer an flogh yonk ha y dhama ha ke dhe Egyp WR; over the place where the y. child was dres leb/m/a era an flogh yonk WR; seek the y. child surely whilas sür rag an flogh yonk WR; y. children love food flehes yonk a gar boos BM; y. and old yonk ha loos RD; when I was y. termyn my veu yonk; whether a y. man or an old man beva den yonk bo den coth PA; nice y. man, you are wandering den yonk wheg, gwandra a wreth RD; a y. child in white clothes üdn flogh yonk gwydn y dhilhas PA; for y. and old rag yonk ha loos RD; a handsome y. man den yonk teg BM

Well, on the day that me and my ‘troops’ got horribly lost, we managed not to kill anyone with the Bren Gun. But it was a heavy beast and ‘Boofa’ – the guy who had originally been assigned to carry it – got pretty sick of lugging it about, uphill and down dale, through the thick bush. So, the Bren gun got passed around all day – from shoulder to aching shoulder. Those shoulders included those of the guy who was holding the ‘highly accurate, highly sensitive’ prismatic compass (i.e. me.) A Bren Gun is a substantial piece of metal and – objects that at magnetised are attracted to substantial pieces of metal. A compass needle is a magnetised object. So, voila! While the massive bloody Bren Gun was hanging from my shoulder, all the bearings that I read from the compass were wrong – and massively so. Why did no-one bother to tell us this would happen? Buggered if I know. The people that thought this unimportant were probably the same people that decided that a Bren Gun was a good thing for a bunch of brainless kids to play with. In any event, why am I telling you all this? Is it just another digression by an old man whose mind is wandering? No – at least, not on this particular occasion. During the course of my squad’s misguided wanderings, we came upon a very ‘cool’ place. It was somewhere that, no doubt, the designers of the navigation course would have intended we avoid by a wide margin – if it were known to them at all - since it was definitely not marked on the topographical map. The ‘cool place’ was a long tunnel, a very long tunnel, driven into the side of a hill. Its collapsed entrance was now completely hidden by vigorous re-growth forest. If we had walked ten metres to either side, we would have missed it completely. Obviously, an old, disused mine is a dangerous place – and subject to further collapse at any time. It’s liable to trap and kill anyone foolish enough to enter it. So, did I order my squad not to go into it? Yes, of course, I did! Did they pay the slightest attention to my detailed, strident and urgent warnings? No. not a bit of it. So, very soon, we were all blindly wandering about inside a 100-year-old tunnel, deep inside the hill, Bren gun, useless compass and all.
Wel, an jydh pan eth ha bos kellys ow bagas a skolyers, denvyth na veu ledhys gans an gonn Bren. Byttegyns, best pur voes o ha ‘Boofa’ – an polat re via yn kynsa le appoyntyes dh’y dhoen – eth ha bos skwithys ganso. Res via dhodho y dhoen oll a-dro – war venydhyow hag yn nansow hag, an dhew, dre wylvos tew. Ytho, an gonn a veu tremenys yntra’n brentys-souder oll an jydh – dhiworth unn skoedh ow pystiga dhe huni arall. Yth esa yn arbennik unn skoedh dhe’n huni esa ow synsi an kompas kenkeynek, ‘meur y nerth ha’y gewerder’. (Henn yw leverel, dhymmo vy.) Gonn Bren yw tamm alkan, meur y vraster, ha’n taklow re veu tennvenhes a yll bos tennys gans tamm alkan, meur y vraster. Naswydh kompas kenkeynek yw tra dennvenhes. Ytho, ‘voilà!’ Ha’n gonn Bren, meur y vraster, kregys war ow skoedh, redyansow oll an kompas o kamm – ha kamm dres eghenn. Prag na wrussa denvyth agan gwarnya a-dro dhe’n hwarvos possybyl ma? Ny wonn vy. Yn hwirhaval, an dus a grysi an dra ma bos heb poester o an keth dus a grysi bos tra pur dha rag bagas skolyers heb ympynnyon dhe wandra der an gwylvos gans gonn Bren avel gwariell. Yn neb kas, prag yth esov ow leverel an taklow ma dhywgh? Yw travyth marnas gwandrans gans den koth mayth eus dhodho brys ow kwandra ynwedh? Na – dhe’n lyha, nyns yw an kas an prys ma. Dres an gwandransow heb amkan a’m para, ni a dheuth dhe’n le ‘koul’ dres eghenn. Nep-tu o, heb dhout, may ervirsa dhevisyoryon an oberenn-navigasyon y talvien ni avoydya gans amal ledan – mar kodhviens yn y gever (ha sertan en vy nag o notyes war vappa topografek). An le ‘koul’ o kowfordh hir, kowfordh pur hir, palys yn ewn yn tu bre. Koedhys war an dor, y fyllsa yn tien porth an gowfordh, gorherys ha kudhys uskis gans gwylvos dhasdevys. Mar kerdhsen deg meter dhe unn tu an gowfordh, y fallsen y weles mann. Yn apert, bal koth ha usyes yw tyller peryllus – le may kyll hwarvos pup-prys koedhow an dor. Ytho, oll an dus a allsa bos beghys po ledhys ena – mars yns gokki lowr rag entra ynno. Ytho, a wrugavy erghi orth ow fara nag ens gesys entra ynno? Yn hwir! A wrussons notya an manylyon a’m gwarnyansow, tynn ha ter aga gnas? Na wrussons. Ytho, yn skon, yth esen ni ow kwandra oll a-dro yn kowfordh, meur hy oes, hy duder ha’y hirder – gonn Bren ha kompas euver hwath genen ni.