in the apple oor Kornies

in the apple

Vertalings in die woordeboek Engels - Kornies

et an aval

y'n aval

voorbeelde

in the apple
/ y'n aval / / /

There isn't a worm in the apple.
Nyns eus pryv y'n aval.

in the apple
/ et an aval / / /

There isn't a worm in the apple.
Nag eus prev e’n aval.

The apples are in that basket.
Yma an avalow y'n ganstell na.

On our farm the goats eat the rotten apples that are on the ground, the ones that have fallen from the branches in the orchard.
Y’gan bargen tir an gever a dheber an avalow poder usi war an dor, an re re godhas dhyworth an skorr y’n avalennek.

At first Frodo was a good deal disturbed, and wondered often what Gandalf could have heard; but his uneasiness wore off, and in the fine weather he forgot his troubles for a while. The Shire had seldom seen so fair a summer, or so rich an autumn: the trees were laden with apples, honey was dripping in the combs, and the corn was tall and full.
Wostalleth, Frodo a veu nebes prederys, hag ev a omwovynnas lieskweyth yn kever an pyth a wrug Gandalf klywes; mes y breder a sedhas, hag y’n gewer splann ev a ankovas y anken dre bols. Skant ny wre an Shayr gweles hav mar splann, na gynyav mar fethus: an wydh o leun a avalow, yth esa mel ow tevera y’n kribennow mel, ha’n ys o hir ha kwoffys.

On our farm the goats eat the rotten apples that are on the ground, the ones that have fallen from the branches in the orchard. / Cornish often uses yn where English has ‘on’.
Y’gan bargen tir an gever a dheber an avalow poder usi war an dor, an re re godhas dhyworth an skorr y’n avalennek. /

The thing that Adam and Eve did eat was indeed but an apple, yet the eating thereof in that case was an high disobedience against God and the corrupting of all mankind, forasmuch as they two were the very root whereof all men must rise, and the route being once naught, how can the tree or branches, coming of that root, be good?
An dra a wrug Adam hag Eva dybri nyns o ma's aval, saw hwath an dybri a'n {keth-sam} aval na [Bonner: thereof] y'n keth kas na, o <disobediens> bras {warbynn} Dyw, ha dredha oll linyeth mab-den a veu korruptys, yn mar veur dell ons i aga dew an wreydhenn dredhi mayth o res dhe linyeth mab-den dos, ha'n wreydhenn unnweyth o korruptys ha nyns o 'vas. Fatell ylli an wydhenn ha'n barrow ow tos mes a'n wreydhenn na bos 'vas?

One Jew considered and told them there was a tree thrown into the water which had never been in the sun. it was ordained for the cross (and the jews did not know) and derived from the apple through which adam had sinned.
unn edhow a brederis hag a leveris dhedha bones prenn yn dowr tewlys a'y oes y'n howl na via rag an grows yth o ord'nys ha'n edhewon ny wodhya hag a'n aval devedhys dredhi adam may peghsa

At last Tom and Goldberry rose and cleared the table swiftly. The guests were commanded to sit quiet, and were set in chairs, each with a footstool to his tired feet. There was a fire in the wide hearth before them, and it was burning with a sweet smell, as if it were built of apple-wood. When everything was set in order, all the lights in the room were put out, except one lamp and a pair of candles at each end of the chimney-shelf. Then Goldberry came and stood before them, holding a candle; and she wished them each a good night and deep sleep.
Wor’tiwedh, Tom ha Goldberri a sevis ha klerhe an voes yn skon. An westoryon a veu erghys esedha yn kosel, hag i a veu gorrys dhe gadoryow, pub gans skavell-treys rag y dhewdroes skwith. Yth esa tan y’n oeles efan a-dheragdha, hag yth esa ev ow leski gans fler hweg haval ev dhe vos drehevys gans prenn-avalenn. Pan veu gorrys yn kempenn puptra y’n stevell, an golowys oll a veu difeudhys, marnas unn lugarn, ha dew gantol dhe’n eyl penn astell an oeles ha’y gila. Ena, Goldberri a dheuth ha sevel a-ragdha, ow synsi kantol; ha hy a vynnas orta ma’s teffo nos dha ha kosk kosel.

For tablet or smartphone, download Bibel Sans from the Apple Store for iOS, or the Google Play Store for Android (for the latter it may be necessary to search for ‘Bibel Kernewek - Cornish Bible’). It will be necessary to register or sign in the first time.
Rag tablet po pellgowser smart, iskarg Bibel Sans dhiworth Gwithti Apple rag iOS, po iskarg Bibel Kernewek - Cornish Bible dhiworth gwithti Google Play Store rag Android. Res vydh restra po sinya a-ji an kynsa treveth.

The tortures he suffered were not for himself alone but for the people of the world as they were found (to be) so frail. The Devil spoke to Adam: "The apple, you take a bit! You will become like God!" When he tried it, in no way was it so!
An paynys a wodhevis ny veu ragdho y honan, lemen rag pobel an bys pan vons i kevys mar wann. An Jowl dhe Adam gewsis, "An aval ty kemmer tamm! Avel Duw y fedhydh gwrys!" Pan y'n provas nyns o mann!

This is furthermore also to exhort you, that remembering what misery came to mankind by sin and by such a sin as in some men’s judgement might seem to be but very small, it is to wit, by eating of an apple, you will be circumspect in avoiding all kind of sin and disobedience, be the thing in his own nature never so small a thing, which is by God himself or by such as we owe obedience unto, commanded.
Hemma yw pella ynwedh dh'agas eksortya hwi dhe remembra pana <miseri> ha drokkoleth a dheuth dhe vab-den dre begh, ha dre begh a'n par na dhe hevelep rann a'n bobel nyns o ma's byghan, henna yw dhe onderstondya dre dhybri an aval, dre {eksampel} a henna my a drest hwi a vydh <circumspect> dhe {avoydya} oll kinda peghosow ha <disobediens>, kyn fe an dra vydh mar nebes yn y natur y honan {Bonner: be the thynge in his owne nature neuer so smale a thynge], be-va dre gommondment Dyw, bo dre neb on ni dre <obediens> kelmys dhe servya ha speshly dre gommondment Dyw.

But now, because it may peradventure seem in some man’s judgement, that seeing the thing that Adam and Eve did was but the eating of an apple, therefore their fault was not great, nor deserved so generous punishment, let us consider the circumstances and we shall soon perceive the offence not light, but very sore and heinous.
Saw lemmyn martesen yth haval dhe <judgement> rann an bobel, nag o offens Adam ha Eva mar vras, rag na wrussens ma's dybri an aval, ha rakhenna nyns o aga fowt mar vras awos deservya mar vras punyshment. Gesyn ni dhe gonsydra an <circumstans> a'n dra, ha {nena} ni a wra hware persevya nag o offens byghan, ma's veri <grevaws> ha poes.

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!

Sam could never describe in words, nor picture clearly to himself, what he felt or thought that night, though it remained in his memory as one of the chief events of his life. The nearest he ever got was to say: ‘Well, sir, if I could grow apples like that, I would call myself a gardener. But it was the singing that went to my heart, if you know what I mean.’
Nervra ny allsa Sam deskrifa yn geryow, na wul skeusenn yn kler yn y vrys, an pyth a omglywas ha tybi ev dhe’n nos na, kyn triga hi yn y gov avel hwarvos a’n brassa yn y vywnans. An gwella lavar a ylli ev gul o: ‘Wel syrr, mar kallen vy tevi avallow haval dhe henna, yth omhanwen lowarther. Mes an kenys eth dhe’m kolonn, ty a gonvedh.’

Just down the road, the University Café (not as popular as Tamani’s) was in better shape and so I cheerfully got into their cupboards and fridge to stock up on essential items. I took mainly stuff that was in tins and cans so that it would last. They had a stock of tinned hams and plum puddings, apparently left over from Christmas. Fine by me – so I took as many as I could carry in the back- pack I retrieved along the way. (Don’t ask me who was wearing it at the time – they weren’t going to need it again, I promise you.) I tried to encourage David to share the load with me – I even found another back-pack for him. But he was having none of it. Apparently, zombies don’t do the beast-of-burden thing. (A fact well worth remembering, I’m sure.) In any event, David was getting twitchy again. At first, I thought it must have been hunger (oh no!) but he was just bored. I offered him an apple that I had just swiped from the University Café. He snatched at it and threw it away in disgust. (What had I been thinking? Fruit? For a zombie?) So, I selected another from a nearby basket and bit into it. It wasn’t that fresh – it had been sitting around for over a week – but it was okay (and, unlike the pancakes, it didn’t make me throw up.) How to avoid going back to Union House – that was the pressing problem. Where would any self-respecting zombie prefer to go – other than a charnel house full of zombies (and one psychopathic cat)? Then it struck me: “Hey, Dave! Wanna go to the cemetery? You know, the big one that’s just near here?” He stopped twitching. That was a good sign. But did he know what I was talking about? Possibly, he did. Zombie intelligence is not an easy thing to understand – and, in David’s case, it was complicated by the fact (as I knew) that he could tap into my own mind to boost whatever wit he had been left with following his death. I was like a poorly connected hard-drive, I suppose (though hard-drives, external or otherwise, were unheard of at that time).
Yth esa a-ogas Koffiji an Bennskol (nag o maga hwerinek avel Chi Tamani). Nyns o kemmys distruys hag ytho my a igoras an amariow ha’n yeynell rag kavoes traow o res. Dres oll, my a gemmeras an boesow esa yn kannow may turryens. Yth esa ena stokk a vordhosow hogh kannys hag ynwedh podins – a remaynsa, dell heveli, a-dhia Nadelik. Da o henna genev – ytho my a gemmeras kemmys dell yllyn degi y’n sagh-geyn a gevsen war an fordh. (Na’m govynnewgh neb esa orth y wiska y’n tor’ na – nyns esa na fella edhomm anodho dhodho, my a’gas li.) My a assayas kennertha Davydh dhe gevrenna an fardell genev vy – ha, rag henna, my a gevis sagh-geyn arall ragdho. Mes anvodhek yn feur o ev. Yn apert, ny vydhons skrubel, an zombis. (Hemm yw gwirenn meur y dalvosogeth ragowgh hwi, sur ov.) Yn neb kas, y to ha bos Davydh skwychyek unnweyth arta. Y’n kynsa le, y krysen bos nown dhodho (na!) mes nyns esa dhodho saw skwithter. My a brofyas dhodho aval re lad’sen yn Koffiji an Bennskol. Ev a gibyas orto ha’y dewlel dhe-ves, meur y dhivlas. (Pyth esen ow prederi? Froeth? Rag zombi?) Ytho, my a dhewisas huni arall dhiworth kanstell esa a-ogas ha’y dhynsel. Nyns o mar gro – y fia owth esedha ena dres moy es pennseythun – mes da lowr o (ha, dihaval dhe’n krampoeth, ny’m gwrug dhe hwyja.) Fatell yllyn avoydya dehweles dhe Ji an Kesunyans – henn o an kudynn ter. Ple halsa zombi a dhegre da – a-der chi mernans leun a zombis (hag unn gath sykopathek)? Ena, tybyans a’m frappyas. “Hou, ‘Dhav! A vynnta mos dhe’n ynkleudhva? An huni meur, dell wodhesta, a-ogas dhyn ni?” Y skwychyans a hedhis. Henn o sin da. Byttegyns, a gonvedhi ow geryow vy? Possybyl o. Nyns o es dhe gonvedhes poell an zombis – ha, a-dro dhe boell Davydh, kompleth o drefenn ev dhe alloes (dell wodhyen) tardra y’m brys ow honan rag ynkressya an skians re via gesys dhodho wosa y vernans. Yth en vy kepar ha plasenn gales nag o junyes dh’y vrys yn ewn, dell grysav (kyn nag o aswonnys an plasennow kales y’n tor’ na – po a-ves po a-bervedh.)

Nevertheless, I had to try. As I approached the pair, apparently locked in a deathly embrace, I yelled all sorts of threats and curses at my beloved brother. I can’t remember exactly what they were except that they were dire and foul. No response or acknowledgement was forthcoming from David, in any event. And, just as I expected that David would deliver the coup de grâce to the small man, an amazing thing occurred: David released his grip, stood up and walked away, making the same type of grunt he had made when I had, so recently, offered him an apple – utter disgust. The small man lay on the ground, passed out but physically unhurt. The door to the crypt opened a crack and a quavering voice croaked: “Are you okay, Charles?” “Charles”? Yes, of course, I knew this guy. His real name was Peter but he called himself ‘Charles’, as in Charles the first, beheaded king of England. He imagined himself as royalty – and even grew the royal goatee of the period. All his special friends bore the names of the royal court. Jude – you know, the one who, presumably, was still holed up in the Baillieu Library – was dubbed ‘Henrietta-Maria’ (Charles I’s wife) and, for what it was worth, Charles had dubbed me ‘Oliver Cromwell’. (I only realised much later that, coming from Charles I, this was a dire insult – since Cromwell had been responsible for Charles’ beheading. But, I’d not been at all fussed by this at the time of my ‘christening’). Charles, at that time, was the only openly gay friend that I had. He was very brave. At that time, male homosexual acts were still punishable in Victoria as felonies under the Crimes Act of 1958. (“The abominable crime of buggery”, as it was therein described – very strange, non-legal, language.). So, ‘to come out of the cupboard’ was not without serious risks in those days. The law was still routinely enforced against men such as Charles. So, who was ‘Paul’, still cowering in the crypt? That could wait. More to the point, why had David scorned a fresh meal of Charles? Were zombies homophobic? Surely not. Any meal of living flesh is a meal. Isn’t it? Who could be so picky? Besides, zombies seemed perfectly happy to devour either male or female flesh – but not, of course, the flesh of lawyers. So, why reject the flesh of a gay man?
Byttiwettha, res o dhymm dhe assaya. Ha my neshes an dhew, prennys warbarth yn byrlyans a vernans, my a usas eghennow-oll a vraslavarow hag a vollethi orth ow broder meurgerys. Ny allav perthi kov anedha yn ewn – mes yth ens i euthyk ha plos. Ny dheuth gorthyp vyth nag aswonnans dhiworth Davydh, yn neb kas. Ha, pan dheuth an termyn rag Davydh dhe ri an coup de grâce dhe’n den byghan ma, y hwarva tra varthys: Davydh a’n livras dhiworth y dhalghenn ha sevel yn-bann ha kerdhes dhe-ves, ow kul an kethsam rogh a wrussa pan brofysen aval dhodho a-gynsow – divlas dien. Yth esa an den byghan a’y worwedh war an dor – heb omwodhvos mes anbystigys. Yth igoras krakk yn daras an gleudhgell hag y tellos dhiworto lev ow krena: “Osta da lowr, Charles?” “Charles”? Ya, heb mar, my a wodhya an polat ma. Peder o y hanow gwir mes ev a wrug devnydh a “Charles” avel hanow – kepar ha Charlys Kynsa, an myghtern sowsnek re via dibennys. Ev a omdybi bos ryeleth – ha, gans henna, yth esa dhodho barv gaver kepar ha’n myghtern na. Yth esa ynwedh dh’y sos arbennik henwyn an lys ryel. Jude – an huni esa, dell grysyn, hwath owth omgudha y’n Lyverva Baillieu – o henwys ganso ‘Henrietta-Maria’ (gwreg Charlys Kynsa) ha, mars yw res godhvos, yth en vy gelwys ‘Oliver Cromwell’. (Ny gonvedhis bys termynyow diwettha an hanow ma, ow tos dhiworth ‘Charlys Kynsa’, dhe vos arvedhenn euthyk – drefenn Cromwell dhe omgemmeres y dhibennans. Byttegyns, ny vroghsen vy ganso pan vien ‘besydhyes’.) Y’n tor’ na, yth o Charles ow sos unnik bos kethreydhel yn igor. Pur hardh o ev. Y’n termynyow na, y kessydhyes hwath gweythresow kethreydhel yn Budhykka avel felonis herwydh reyth an senedh henwys “The Crimes Act (1958)”. (Y’n reyth na, an feloni a veu deskrifys avel “An gweythres kasadow a vuggrans” – geryow pur anlaghel, pur goynt.) Ytho, nyns o heb argoll sevur ‘dos yn-mes an amari’ y’n dydhyow na. Yth o an lagha ma gweythresys herwydh usadow erbynn an dus kepar ha Charles. Yn neb kas, piw o ‘Powl’, hwath owth omgudha y’n gleudhgell? An kwestyon na a allsa gortos. O zombis ownoryon-kethreydhogyon? Na, nyns o henna gwirhaval. Liv a gig yn fyw yw liv wosa oll, a nyns yw? Py par zombi yw mar dhewesik? Dres henna, yth heveli bos pur lowen an zombis dhe dhevorya po kig gorow po kig benow. Henn yw leverel, kig oll an dus (po ogas) – a-der an laghysi, heb mar. Ytho, prag y talvien skonya kig dhe dhen kethreydhel? 71