for more than a week oor Kornies

for more than a week

Vertalings in die woordeboek Engels - Kornies

dres moy es seythen

voorbeelde

for more than a week
/ dres moy es seythen / / /

for more than a week
dres moy ages seythen

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.

THE RELIEF OF THE BAILLIEU It was just as Paul had described: a large refrigerated truck, ‘parked’ at a set of traffic lights in Lygon Street, the door of the cab wide open and no driver in sight – and the diesel engine was still idling. (Frugal beasts, those diesel engines.) The vehicle was otherwise untouched – what good was it to zombies? So, David and I approached, and opened the rear doors without difficulty. The driver had obviously only just started his delivery run – the refrigerated compartment was absolutely full of frozen foodstuffs of all kinds. Meat and poultry – frozen and processed. Fruit and vegetables. Pallet loads of it. Literally, tonnes of it. More than enough to feed the fugitives in the Baillieu for weeks. “Hey, Dave! Paul is a complete genius! We could have spent weeks looking for something like this.” David said nothing – not even a grunt came from him. This stuff was now unimportant to him and, I guessed, he wanted to be elsewhere (the basement of Union House) more than ever. “Too bad, Dave,” I said. “I’m not going back there.” (Not unless I absolutely had to.) I was minded to jump into the cab and drive straight to the Baillieu but I had another idea. I would drive it back to the crypt in the cemetery or, at least, as near as I could get this lumbering great vehicle to it. “Jump in, Dave,” I said. “We’re going for a little ride.” David reluctantly complied – he had no other pressing engagements. Of course, you might object that this all sounds highly improbable – and, indeed it was, the finding of the truck, at least. But there was no improbability about my being able to drive that truck. True it is that I did not possess an articulated vehicle licence and had never tried to get one. True also is that, if called upon to drive this vehicle further than the mile or so that I now needed to drive, I would probably have crashed the truck or damaged it irreparably.
DIFRESYANS AN BAILLIEU. Yth o kepar dell dheskrifsa Powl: kert-yeynell meur, ‘parkyes’ a-dherag dhe wolowys daromres yn Stret Lygon, daras an kab ledan apert ha mes a-wel y lywyer. Yth esa an jynn disel hwath owth oberi yn lent. (Bestes tanow, an jynnow disel ma.) Ken andochyes o an kert – py par devnydh o ev dhe zombis? Ytho, yth omneshas Davydh ha my dhodho hag igeri an darasow a-dhelergh heb kaletter. Yn apert, ny dhallathsa an lywyer saw a-dhiwedhes doen proviansow dh’y werthjiow – lenwys yn tien o an kertgell yeynellys gans boes rewys a bub sort. Kig bewin ha kig yar – gwrys ha rewys. Froeth ha losow-kegin. Gweliasow-karg anedha. Tonnas anedha, yn hwir. Yth esa moy a voes es dell o res rag maga an fowesigyon y’n Lyverva Baillieu dres seythunyow a dho. “Hay, ‘Dhavydh! Ass yw Powl awenek pur! Possybyl a via tremena seythunyow rag kavoes neppyth kepar ha hemma.” Ny leveris Davydh travyth - ny dheuth dhiworto rogh hogen. Nyns o poesek an materow ma dhodho lemmyn ha, dell wodhyen, ev a vynna yn feur bos yn ken le (yn sellder Chi an Kesunyans). “Ny’m deur, ‘Dhav,” yn-medhav. “Ny vynnav dehweles alena.” (Marnas esa edhomm ter dhymm a wul yndella.) Namnag erviris vy lamma y’n kab ha lywya an kert a-dhistowgh dhe’n Baillieu mes y teuth dhymm tybyans arall. Y’n kynsa le, my a allsa y lywya dhe’n gleudhgell po, y’n lyha, maga nes dell yllyn dri an kert meur ma dhodho. “Lamm a-bervedh, ‘Dhav,” yn-medhav. “Yth eson ni ow kemmeres vyaj byghan.” Akordyes o Davydh – nebes a’y anvodh – mes nyns esa dhodho deverow erell esa ow herdhya warnodho. Heb mar, y hyllys skonya a grysi an hwarvos ma drefenn na heveli bos gwirhaval – hag, yn hwir, nyns o gwirhaval mann dhe gavoes kert kepar dell gavsen. Byttegyns, gwirhaval yn tien o’m galloes lywya an kert na. Yn sertan, nyns esa dhymm kummyas-lywya rag an kertow – ha ny assaysen nevra kavoes onan anedha. Gwir o keffrys, mar fia edhomm dhymm lywya an kert ma moy es a-dro dhe’n mildir o res dhymm dhe lywya, an kert a via deghesys erbynn oll an taklow a-hes an fordh - po my a wrussa kisyans dhodho dres y ewnheans.

Gately was not to be deterred so easily. He came from a long line of folk who never gave up. He continued: “He says he’s seen ‘em recover – come back to the world of the livin’ with no more to show for bein’ a zombie than a few scars from the bites. He says he saw a couple of his own friends get better – but he thinks they got burned up by the napalm our guys dropped at the University a couple of weeks back.” The Aussie ‘veterans’, as one, stopped drinking as they took in the significance of what Gately had just said. The Yanks said nothing for those same few seconds. The barmaid, naturally fearful of any sudden silence in her bar, turned and stared at them in wide-eyed alarm. One of the Aussies broke the silence: “How many of the zombie guys are supposed to get better? Only two? Three? How many?” Gately replied: “The guy didn’t tell us that. Your Captain Doctor silenced him with several jolts from a cattle-prod. Screamed like a stuck pig, he did. Then some of our guys tried to stop the guy being taken away ‘cos we wanted to hear what he had to say.” “And?” said the first Aussie. “The guards pulled their side-arms on us – and dragged him away.” “Very friendly indeed,” muttered another of the Aussies, not really surprised by this aspect of what he was being told. “So,” said the first Aussie – who had now put his beer aside completely (an extremely serious move) – “ we really don’t know whether it’s one thousand guys – or just two – who are supposed to get better and stop being zombies, do we?” “No, sir” admitted Gately, “we do not. But, if two of the guy’s own close friends got better, that means it must be pretty common. That means there could be thousands, tens of thousands of young guys – just like us that would recover. That is, if they weren’t bein’ ‘wasted’ by the rest of us right now.”
Nyns o dyswadyes Porther mar es: ev re dheuth dhiworth teylu na wrug nevra omri. Ev a besya: “Ev a lever ev dh’aga gweles bos omyaghhes – dhe dhehweles dhe vys an dus vyw – gans travyth moy bos gwelys a-der nebes kreyth re dhothya dhiworth an brathow. Ev a lever y welas ev dew yntra y gothmans y honan dhe omyaghhe – byttegyns, ev a grys aga bos leskys gans an napalm gesys dhe goedha war an Bennskol nans yw dew seythun.” An ‘hensoudoryon’ Ostralek, warbarth oll, a hedhis eva hag i ombrederys, hag i prederys a-dro dhe’n pyth re lavarsa Porther. Ny leveris travyth an Yankis – dres an pols na. An vaghteth, meur hy own drefenn tawys anwaytyes oll yn hy barr, a dreylas ha lagatta orta, ledan hy dewlagas. Onan yntra’n Ostralianas a dorras an taw ma: “Pygemmys an bolatys-zombis a yll bos omyaghhes? Dew anedha hepken? Tri? Pygemmys?” Porther a worthybis: “Ny leveris an polat henna dhyn. Agas Kapten Medhek a wrug dhodho bos tawesek gans lies jag tredan diworth pok-jatel. Ev a skrijas kepar ha hogh gans kollel plansys ynno. Ena, nebes yntra’n soudoryon a assayas lettya an polat rag y vos kemmerys dhe-ves – drefenn ni dhe vynnes klywes pyth esa ow leverel.” “Ha?” yn-medh an kynsa Ostralian. “An withysi a dennas aga gonnigow ha’ga foyntya orthyn ni – hag ena ev a veu draylyes dhe-ves.” “Pur hegar yn hwir,” a leveris huni arall yntra’n Ostralianas, isel y lev, mes nyns o meur y sowdhan. “Ytho,” yn-medh an kynsa Ostralian – re worrsa lemmyn a-denewen y gorev (gwayans sevur dreg eghenn), “ny wodhon yn hwir mar fydh onan mil bolat – po saw dew hepken – a yll bos omyaghhes ha sessya aga bywnans-zombi? Yn hwir, yw henna?” “Henn yw gwir,” a amyttyas Porther, “ny wodhon. Byttegyns, yntra y vatys y honan, mars esa dew anedha a ylli omyaghhe, res yw dhe grysi an hwarvos ma dhe vos pur gemmyn. Ytho, y talvien bos milyow anedha, deg milyow yonkers – kepar ha ni – a yll ommyaghhe. Henn yw leverel, ma na vens ‘gwastyes’ gans oll ahanan ni y’n termyn ma.”