in the afternoons oor Kornies

in the afternoons

Vertalings in die woordeboek Engels - Kornies

androweyth

dohajydhweyth

Soortgelyke frases

at two in the afternoon
dhe dhiw eur androweyth

in the afternoon
androweyth · dohajydhweyth

rain in the morning and afternoon
glaw myttin ha dohajydh

voorbeelde

in the afternoons
/ dohajydhweyth / / /

at two in the afternoon
dhe dhiw eur androweyth [ lavar ]

Butterflies enjoy themselves in the afternoon sunshine.
Tykkies-Duw a omlowenha yn howlsplann an dohajydhweyth.

at two in the afternoon
dhe dhiw eur androweyth ( ) ( ) ( ) ( ) ( ) ( idiom )

in the afternoons
/ androweyth / / /

at two in the afternoon
dhe dhiw eur androweyth idiom

at two in the afternoon
/ dhe dhiw eur androweyth / / /

in the afternoon
/ androweyth / / /

[ðə] [rager] to; at. dhe dhiw eur androweyth at two in the afternoon
dhe2

at two in the afternoon
dhe dhiw eur androweyth [tavoseth] [disamstyryans]

in the afternoon
/ dohajydhweyth / / /

“Excuse me Mrs.Williams, but on Godolphin Road, we NEVER shake our mats in the afternoons.”
"Gevewgh dhymm Mrs. Williams, mes yn Fordh Godhwolghan, ny shackyn BYTHKWETH agan strelyow dohajydhweyth."

And in the afternoon, there will be the St.Piran’s Play at Perranporth at 2.00 showing the arrival of Piran in Cornwall.
Hag androweyth, y fydh Gwari Sen Peran yn Porthperan dhe 2.00 ow tiskwedhes devedhyans Peran yn Kernow.

One day, in the afternoon, we went to see my uncle and aunt, who lived in Wimbledon. (My uncle was an umpire at Wimbledon Tennis Club, and sometimes, when we were watching tennis on the television in summer, we saw him.)
Unn jydh, androweyth, ni eth dhe weles ow ewnter ha’m modrep, hag a driga yn Wimbledon. (Ow ewnter o breusyas dhe Gowethas Tennis Wimbledon, ha treweythyow, pan esen ni ow mires orth tennis war an bellwolok yn hav, ni a’n gwelas.)

rain in the morning and afternoon
/ glaw myttin ha dohajydh / / /

afternoon n. or 'in the a.' dohajedh /ˌdɔhə'ʤeːð/ m. - yow PC, Lh; late a. androw m. -yow /'ændrɔ/ PC. It is not customary to wish s.one a good afternoon. Instead use dedh da or durdadhewhei from around 10 a.m. until evening.
afternoon n. or 'in the a.' dohajedh /ˌdɔhə'ʤeːð/ m. - yow PC, Lh; late a. androw m. -yow /'ændrɔ/ PC. It is not customary to wish s.one a good afternoon. Instead use dedh da or durdadhewhei from around 10 a.m. until evening.

As we emerged from the DS hut we heard the hand-bell summoning us to the last lesson of the afternoon, ringing far away in the playground below. Then it stopped ringing – we would be late! As fate would have it, the last lesson was with the headmaster – a corpulent, pompous, and irascible Welshman. Still eating our cakes, we ran off downhill at top speed.
Ha ni ow kasa an bywdern, ni a glewas an klogh-dhorn orth agan gelwel dhe dhiwettha klass an dohajydh, ow seni y’n pelder y’n garth-gwari a-woles. Ena an senyans a hedhis – y fedhen ni diwedhes! Dell godhas, agan diwettha klass o kemerys gans an penndyskador – Kembro korfek, orgelus ha fyslek. Ow tybri hwath agan tesennow, ni a bonyas war-nans skaffa gyllyn.

45 From noon until three in the afternoon darkness came over all the land. 46 About three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eli, Eli,[c] lema sabachthani?” (which means “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”).[d] 47 When some of those standing there heard this, they said, “He’s calling Elijah.” 48 Immediately one of them ran and got a sponge. He filled it with wine vinegar, put it on a staff, and offered it to Jesus to drink. 49 The rest said, “Now leave him alone. Let’s see if Elijah comes to save him.” 50 And when Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice, he gave up his spirit. 51 At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook, the rocks split 52 and the tombs broke open. The bodies of many holy people who had died were raised to life. 53 They came out of the tombs after Jesus’ resurrection and[e] went into the holy city and appeared to many people. 54 When the centurion and those with him who were guarding Jesus saw the earthquake and all that had happened, they were terrified, and exclaimed, “Surely he was the Son of God!” 55 Many women were there, watching from a distance. They had followed Jesus from Galilee to care for his needs. 56 Among them were Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James and Joseph,[f] and the mother of Zebedee’s sons.
45Ha dhiworth an hweghves eur yth esa tewolgow war oll an nor bys y'n nawves eur. 46Hag a-dro dhe'n nawves eur, Yesu a armas gans lev ughel ow leverel, ‘Eli, Eli, lema sabaghthani?’ henn yw: ‘Ow Duw, Ow Duw, prag y'm forsaksys?’ 47Re an dus a sevi ena, pan y'n klewsons a leveris, ‘Yma an den ma ow karma war Elias.’ 48Ha dihwans onan anedha a boenyas dhe gavoes spong hag a'n lenwis a aysel ha'y worra war welenn ha'y ri dhodho dhe eva. 49Mes an re erell a leveris, ‘Gesewgh ni dhe weles mar teu Elias rag y sawya.’ 50Ena Yesu a armas arta gans lev ughel hag a dhaskorras an enev. 51Hag otta, vayl an tempel a veu skwardys yntra diw rann, a'n penn a-wartha bys y'n goeles, hag y feu dorgrys ha'n karregi a veu folsys, 52ha'n bedhow a veu igerys ha meur a gorfow a'n syns koedhys yn kosk a veu drehevys; 53hag i a dheuth yn-mes a'n bedhow wosa y dhasserghyans, ha mos y'n sita sans hag omdhiskwedhes dhe lies huni. 54Ha'n penn-kangour ha'n re esa ganso ow kwitha Yesu, pan welsons an dorgrys hag oll a hwarva, a borthas own meur, ow leverel, ‘Yn tevri hemma o Mab Duw.’ 55Hag yth esa ena lies benyn ow mires a-bell, neb a holyas Yesu dhiworth Galile, orth y servya. 56Yn aga mysk yth esa Maria Magdalena, ha Maria mamm Jamys ha Yoses, ha mamm mebyon Zebede.

Lovely! I had chosen well. Then a slight movement in the afternoon shadows. David didn’t see it at first – zombies have poor eyesight, remember? “Whoever or whatever you are,” I thought, “for God’s sake, stay still.” It didn’t. This time, David spotted the movement and immediately let out an almighty bellow. He broke free of my grip and was off in hot pursuit. The small figure ran for all it was worth – and I set off after both of them, cursing loudly. David’s zombie blood was up. (Oh, I forgot, they don’t have blood, do they? Hmm. Maybe they’ve got blood but it just doesn’t move about much – what with no beating heart and all.) Anyway, the chase was on. Both David and the small, retreating figure were vaulting tombstones and dodging around pencil-pine trees. David was gaining in the pursuit but not a lot – though both were definitely leaving me behind. I noticed the small figure was headed to where I’d been taking David anyway, one of the large family crypts. David roared and the small figure ‘squealed like a little girlie’ – though I was reasonably sure it was not a girl. It didn’t seem to move like a girl. In fact, though male, it seemed to be a dwarf of some kind. “Open the fucking door!” it screamed as it ran. “Paul! Get the door open now! There’s a fucking zombie!” Yes, definitely male – and familiar, definitely familiar. “Paul”, whoever he was, was too slow. The door of the crypt remained firmly closed as the small male reached it – and, within seconds, David fell upon him with a triumphant roar. “Oh, shit,” I thought. “David’s just caught lunch.” And I knew, from what had happened to Meryl yesterday, there was not a thing I could do to prevent David’s mealtime from taking its tragic course.
Ass o teg! My re wrussa dewis da. Ena, gwayans munys yn skeusow an dohajydh. Y’n kynsa le, ny’n gwelas Davydh – porth kov nag eus gwel dha dhe’n zombis. “Piwpynag (po pypynag) osta,” a brederis vy, “na way mann, awos Duw.” Gwayans. Y’n tor’ma, Davydh a’n aspias hag, a-dhistowgh, a dhellos bedhyglans pur vras. Ev a skapyas ow dalghenn ha resek uskis yn-unn-bursywya. An figur byghan a resas uskissa galla – ha my a dhallathas resek rag kachya an dhew, ow mollethi yn ughel. Pur doemm o goes-zombi Davydh. (A, my re ankovsa. Nyns esa goes dhe’n zombis, dell grysav. Hmm. Martesen, yma goes dhedha mes ny wra ev gwaya meur – drefenn na wrons i lemmel, aga holonnow.) Yn neb kas, an helghva re dhallathsa. Yth esa an dhew, Davydh ha’n figur byghan ow kildenna, ow lamma meyn-bedh hag ow koheles pinennow-pluvenn. Y ferkyis an figur byghan dhe resek wor’tu ha’n le may ervirsen ledya Davydh, onan yntra’n kleudhegellow teyluyek bras. Davydh a vedhyglas ha’n figur a skrijas kepar ha myrghik – kynth ov sur lowr nag o myrgh. Nyns esa ow kwaya kepar ha myrgh. Yn hwir, kynth o gorow, y heveli bos korr a neb eghenn. “Gwra igor an daras euthyk!” a skrijas hag ev resys. “Powl! Gwra e lemmyn! ‘ma zombi euthyk!” Ya, gorow yn sertan – hag aswonnys dhymm yn sur. ‘Powl’, piwpynag o ev, o re lent. Daras an kleudhegell a remayna degeys fast ha’n gour y dhrehedhys – ha, yn eylennow, Davydh re goedhsa warnodho, meur y ormola. “A, kawgh,” a brederis. “Davydh re gachyas y liv.” Ha my a wodhya, drefenn an denkys re goedhsa dhe Veryl de, nyns esa travyth a allsen vy gul rag lettya prys-boes Davydh, rag lettya trajedi arall.

The highpoint of the Union Weekend without a doubt was the afternoon of 25th February with the Treasure Hunt for the children who are learning Cornish in schools in the Penzance area.
Ughboynt Pennseythen an Kesunyans heb mar o dohajydh 25ens mis Hwevrer gans Trovyans Tresor rag fleghes usi ow tyski Kernewek yn skolyow yn ranndir Pennsans.

My father-in -law worked in the garage on his old car. His niece, Hilda, heard Breton spoken in Morlaix. Good afternoon to you all. Will you speak Cornish with us? The boy pulled the rope but he was too weak. He cannot do that work any more. Where are my pens, the black one and the red one? I wish to buy mackerel. We are approaching the town centre.
Ow hwegron a oberas y'n karrji war y garr koth. Y nith, Hylda, a glewas Bretonek kewsys yn Montroules. Dohajydh da dhywgh hwi oll. A vynnowgh hwi kewsel kernewek genen? An maw a dennas an lovan mes re wann o ev. Ny yll ev gul an ober na namoy. Ple'ma ow fluvennow, an huni dhu ha'n huni rudh? Yma hwans dhymm a brena brithili. Yth eson ow nesa dhe gres an dre.

Having attended to our ablutions, I felt the need to rest again and to block out the intermittent roar of the ongoing slaughter outside. I was just too stuffed from what had been happening over the last week and more – and, anyway, we had nowhere else to go just at the minute. More than that, if I were to continue on, I couldn’t afford to think about the horror of recent and ongoing events – it was simply too overwhelming and sleep was the place to retreat from all that. David lapsed into a torpor with which I was now becoming familiar. Was it sleep? Was it another form of death? I awoke again in the afternoon, I think. The shooting was now very sporadic and the cries of the zombies were no longer audible. Still, we’d need to be here for at least a few days before it was safe to venture out – or so I guessed – and I would need to keep myself occupied. What to do next? Then I hit upon it: there was a pack of playing cards that Charles and Paul had left behind in their rush to exit. Today, I would try to teach David how to play poker. It was a game he’d once been good at – and had enjoyed. So, why not? Why not indeed? But first, I would catch up on world events. Yes, miraculously, I had managed to hold onto the transistor radio whilst effecting our escape from the battle. True, it was now a little battered – and smelled a lot of gasoline soot – but it still worked. (I hoped that the batteries had been relatively new because I had no replacements at hand.) “This is the BBC World Service,” the announcer intoned. (I was warming to that voice.) News that I wasn’t interested in came first but the ‘Battle of Melbourne Port” was the third item of the broadcast. The item confirmed a couple of things. The first was that the herding of the zombies into the uni campus – and their subsequent destruction there – had been entirely planned and was claimed to have been largely successful in its aim. (There was no mention of the soldiers who had been taken by the zombies during the battle.)
Agan tronkys gwrys, my a omglywo bos edhomm dhymm a bowes arta – rag lettya dhiworthiv usans treweythus dhiworth an ladhva esa ow pesya yn-mes. Spenys en vy drefenn an hwarvosow re hwarsa dres moy es seythun – hag, yn neb kas, nyns esa le vyth arall may hyllyn mos y’n tor’ na. Ha, gans henna, mar mynnen mos yn-rag, ny dalvien prederi a-dro dhe’n euth a hwarvosow a-gynsow – oversettyes gansa en vy ha kosk o an le may yllyn kildenna dhiworta. Davydh a goedhas yn anwrythresekter, lemmyn aswonnys yn ta dhymm. O hemma kosk yn hwir? O hemma eghenn a vernans arall? Dohajydh, dell grysav, my a dhifunas arta. An tennans o lemmyn pur dreweythus ha ny yllys na fella klywes skrijansow an zombis. Byttele, res o dhyn triga omma nebes dydhyow kyns bos salow mos yn-mes – po dell grysyn – hag ytho yth esa edhomm a dhidhana ow honan. Pyth yw an nessa tra dhe wul? Ena, y teuth dhymm: yth esa kartennow-wari re via gesys gans Powl ha Charlys hag i resys dhe-ves dhiworth an gleudhgell. Hedhyw, my a vynna dyski Davydh dell wariir poeker. Kyns, y fia Davydh pur skentel ynno – ha da re via ganso ena. Ytho, prag na? Prag na yn hwir? Byttegyns, y’n kynsa le, yth esa edhomm dhymm kavoes nowodhow a hwarvosow an bys. Ya, dre verkyl, my re sewensa dhe dhalghenna an radyo- transystor ha ni dienkys an vatel. Gwir yw, nebes fustys o lemmyn – hag yth esa dhodho fler hudhygel-betrol – mes yth esa hwath owth oberi. (Govenek o dhymm bos poran nowydh an pilyow drefenn nag esa dhymm nammpyth yn le anedha.) “Hemm yw Servis SDP an Bys” a leveris an derivador. (My a omglywo lemmyn neb konfort drefenn son y lev.) Yth esa nowodhow nag o poesek dhymm a dheuth y’n kynsa le. Byttegyns, yth o “Batel Porth Melbourne” an tressa tra kampoellys y’n darlesans. An kynsa poynt gwrys gensi a gonfirmyas diw dra. An kynsa tra o bugelyans an zombis. I re via bugelyes yn kampus an bennskol – ha distruys ena – dre dowl kler. An towl ma re sewensa, dre vras, herwydh fentynyow an nowodhow. (Byttegyns, ny veu kampoellys an soudoryon re via kemmerys gans an zombis dres an vatel.)

It’s a sheep farm. Open the kitchen door, please! There are lots of people inside the hall. It’s too hot at mid-day. A few words are enough. The garden is very dry. Good afternoon to you, May. Nice weather, isn’t it? Fifty-three people in the bus are too many, it seems. Mother is at the door. Open it then!
Bargen-tir deves yw ev. Igor daras an gegin, mar pleg! Yma meur a dus a-ji dhe’n hel. Re boeth yw hi dhe hanter-dydh. Nebes geryow yw lowr. Pur sygh yw an lowarth. Dohajydh da dhis, Me. Kewer deg, a nyns yw hi? Trydhek den ha dew-ugens a-ji dhe’n kyttrin yw re, dell hevel. Yma an vamm orth an daras. Igor e ytho!

Sing the twenty-first psalm! Mr Bates' butcher's shop is the fourth shop in Church Street. She read the ninth lesson. This afternoon they are meeting their friends. Weren't they holding the handles? Will you eat this apple? No thanks! Can you see the sea yet? I can (= yes). Look here's the basket but there's nothing in it. There is the fishing boat but there's no one in it. Now we buy mackerel in the market. Will you go with us to the dance? He made a dresser of oak wood. They have sold the old cinema. The plants are alive still. Little Marilyn saw a monkey in the tree. Take this drink for you (= yourself). I don't like that woman any more. The sky was grey with clouds and it rained. You can fill the cup with water. Drink a cupful of it! George left his dog outside the house. You can't sit on the lawn. It's too wet. Goodbye! See you soon. My car is not sold yet. Her green dress is new. Those (people) talk nonsenes. I don't know that man. There was a tall chestnut tree in the middle of the lawn. Who is her mother-in-law, then? Look at that dirty cushion! Wait two minutes, please!
Kan an kynsa salm warn ugens! Kikti Mr Bates yw an peswara gwerthji yn Stret an Eglos. Hi a lennas an nawves dyskans. An dohajydh ma ymons i ow metya orth aga howetha. A nyns esens i ow synsi an dornleow? A vynn'ta dybri an aval ma? Na vynnav, meur ras! A yll'ta gweles an mor hwath? Gallav! Ottomma an ganstell mes nyns eus travydh ynni. Ottena an kok mes nyns eus den ynno. Lemmyn y prenyn brithylli y'n varghas. A vynnowgh hwi mones genen dhe'n dons? Ev a wrug lestrier a brenn derow. I re werthas an sinema koth. An losow yw byw hwath. Marilynn vyghan a welas sim y'n wydhenn. Kemmer an diwes ma ragos. Ny garav an venyn na namoy. An ebrenn o loes gans kommol ha hi a wrug glaw. Ty a yll lenwel an hanaf a dhowr. Yv hanafas anodho! Jori a asas y gi yn-mes a'n chi. Ny yllydh jy esedha war an glesin. Re lyb yw ev. Duw genes! Dha weles skon. Nyns yw ow harr gwerthys hwath. Hy fows wyrdh yw nowydh. An re na a glapp flows. Ny aswonnav an gour na. Yth esa kestenenn hir yn kres an glesin. Piw yw hy hweger ytho? Mir orth an bluvek blos na! Gorta diw vynysenn, mar pleg!

Inside Bag End, Bilbo and Gandalf were sitting at the open window of a small room looking out west on to the garden. The late afternoon was bright and peaceful. The flowers glowed red and golden: snap-dragons and sun-flowers, and nasturtiums trailing all over the turf walls and peeping in at the round windows.
A-ji dhe Bag End, yth esa Bylbo ha Gandalf a’ga esedh orth fenester igor stevell vyghan, ow mires war-tu ha’n west dres an lowarth. An dohajydh diwedhes o splann ha kosel. An bleujennow a wolowas rudh hag owrek: dragones-krakk ha bleujennow-howl, ha nasturshyns ow krambla oll a-dreus an fosow a donn hag ow kyki a-ji orth an fenestri kylghek.