it had been able to oor Kornies

it had been able to

Vertalings in die woordeboek Engels - Kornies

galsa

voorbeelde

it had been able to
/ galsa / / /

The following morning, an old lady came to our front door. She was very angry. It seemed that her sister hadn’t been able to sleep all night, because she was terrified. She had been awaiting the arrival of the Devil! My mother was not pleased. However, when the old lady had left, mother described the sister who couldn’t sleep as “a silly old woman”.
Ternos vyttin, y teuth arlodhes koth dh’agan daras-rag. Pur serrys o hi. Dell heveli, ny allsa hy hwor koska dres an nos oll, drefen hy bos diegrys. Hi re beu ow kortos devedhyans an Jowl! Nyns o ow mamm pes da. Byttegyns, ha’n arlodhes koth diberthys, an vamm a dheskrifas an hwor neb na ylli koska avel “benyn goth gokki”.

Whilst working in Nigeria, I was in a position to meet and socialise with educated Nigerian officials and their families. Many of their children were able to converse in English, but seemed reluctant or unable to use their own tribal language. It may have been that they had been discouraged from using their own language. This seemed rather sad and put their own linguistic culture at risk. It seemed reminiscient of Cornish, which had all but become extinct by the 19th century. The pathos and similarity of the situation motivated me to take up learning my own ancient language.
Pan esen vy owth oberi yn Nijeria, y hallen vy metya hag omlowenhe gans soedhogyon Nijerek adhyskys ha'ga theylu. Meur a'ga fleghes a allas keskewsel yn Sowsnek, mes dell hevel, poes o gansa devnydhya aga thaves loethel aga honan. Martesen, i re beu digolennys erbynn devnydhya aga thaves aga honan. My a dybis henna dhe vos nebes trist, ha dredho, aga gonisogeth yethoniethek aga honan a veu peryllys. Henn a wrug kovhe orthiv a Gernewek re dheuth ha bos namnag difeudhys dhe'n 19ves kannsblydhen. Truedh ha hevelepter an studh a vovyas orthiv dhe dhalleth studhya ow henyeth ow honan.

Then he lifted his hands to his bloodied locks and ran his fingers through his hair . He held the palms of his hands before him and looked admiringly at them. Another grunt of satisfaction. He then raised those palms to my own face and smeared it with what had, so recently, been Meryl’s lifeblood. At first, I pulled back from the gesture but David insisted and I allowed him to do it. I stared deep into David’s dead eyes to try and guess what purpose his withered mind had in doing this. I found none. We paused a moment and then he turned and entered the charnel house that had been ‘The Union’. I followed. I had no choice. Apparently, this was to be our shelter for the night. We entered the foyer area and David strode on to the stairwell outside the Caff. In the bowels of the building, where the lockers and toilets are, the zombies had made their home. (Their base?) There were dozens of them there, pacing about, resting, eating. If Union House had ever been a refuge for the living on that first day, it hadn’t been able to hold out long. Unlike the library, which had just one main entrance, there were just too many entrances to the Union building. It may as well have been open access. It was certainly undefendable. Most of the human remains that were lying about had obviously been there for days. Maybe the building had just been overwhelmed on that first day, in the initial onslaught. But Meryl? She had only just been killed. Where had she been hiding? In one of the activities rooms upstairs? You could hold out there for a while but, well away from the Caff, there’d be no food at all – maybe some water, if you were lucky. Perhaps there were still some survivors clinging on up there. Would I be doing them any favours if I went searching – with my brother in tow? Hmmm. I’d have to think on that one.
Ena, ev a sevis y dhiwla dh’y gudynnow goesek ha gwaya y vysies der y vlew. Ev a worras palvow y dhiwla a-dheragdho ha mires orta yn unn estymya. Hanasans gwelghys arall. Ev a dhrehedhis an palvow na dhe’m fas ow honan ha y dhorgura gans goes Meryl. Kynsa, my a dennas dhe-ves dhiworth an sin ma. Byttegyns, y teris Davydh hag ytho my a’n gasas dh’y wul. My a lagattas yn town yn dhewlagas marow Davydh rag assaya kavoes y styr ev. Ny gevis travyth ena. Ni a hedhis pols hag, ena, Davydh a dreylyas ha entra y’n chi mernans re via ‘An Kesunynans’. My a’n sywyas. Nyns esa dewis vyth dhymm. Yn apert, ev re ervirsa y vos agan harber an nos na. Ni a entras yn sal-dynnargh an drehevyans. Davydh a hirgammas dhe’n wrisfordh a-der an Kaff. Yn kolodhyon drehevyans, an selder, mayth yw amariow an studhyoryon ha’n privedhyow, y hwrussa an zombis aga thre. (Aga selva oberyansow?) Yth esa nebes dewdhegow anedha ena, ow kwandra oll a- dro, ow tiskwetha, ow tybri. Mar pe Chi an Kesunyans harber an kynsa dydh rag an dus vyw, ny allsa an dus na perthi orth an zombis dres termyn hir. Y fia dyffrans poesek yntra’n lyverva ha Chi an Kesunyans: nyns esa saw unn jyf entrans dhe’n lyverva mes, dhe’n Kesunyans, meur anedha. Yth o, yn effeyth, hedhas apert. Yn hwir, ny yllys y dhefendya. Yn apert, y fia rann vrassa a’n gesyon denel a’y gorwedh y’n drehevyans dres nebes dydhyow. Martesen, an drehevyans re via oversettyes an kynsa dydh na, dres an kynsa omsettyans. Mes Meryl? Ny via hi ledhys saw a-gynsow. Ple fia hi owth omgudha? Yn onan a’n salyow rag kowethasow studhek, y’n leuryow ughella? Ena, y hyllys perthi orth an zombis dres pols mes, pell an Kaff, nyns esa boes vyth – martesen, nebes dowr, mar pe chons dhedhi. Martesen, yth esa hwath nebes treusvyworyon y’n salyow na, ow kesklena rag bywnans. Byttegyns, a allsen aga gweres mar hwrussen aga hwilas – gans ow broder rybov vy? Hmm. Res o dhymm ombrederi yn y gever.

Paul seemed unamused by my involuntary mirth: “It wasn’t funny, Peter! It was quite terrifying actually.” I composed myself and, with difficulty, removed the grin from my face. “Of course. Terrifying. Absolutely terrifying. ... So, may I take it you were taken unawares by this rearguard attack?” He nodded in a sullen fashion. (Obviously, he didn’t much like my attempted joke.) “There was just one – there haven’t been many zombies passing through the cemetery. So, after we managed to fight it off, we decided to stay put. We managed to scavenge some food and cooking equipment from the gate-keeper’s house without being noticed again. So, we’ve been here ever since – or so I believe.” There was an obvious gap in his recollection – a gap which I thought Charles could not (reliably) fill. So, I decided to pursue the matter. “How did you manage to fight the, er, ‘Roundhead’ off?” “Well, Charles was completely useless, of course ...” commenced Paul Charles frowned and started to protest. “...Correction: His Royal Majesty immediately took command of the situation and, by dint of bravely fainting, allowed me to deal with it ...” Suitably mollified, Charles fell silent. The story that emerged (after lots of hand-waving and recounting of exaggerated deeds of valour) was that, with a profusely bleeding left buttock, a naked Paul had been able physically to repel the initial attack of the zombie – which then turned its attention to a less troublesome target: the supine and unconscious figure of Charles. This explained how Charles, too, had been bitten – albeit on a more ‘decent’ part of his body. “... So, at that point, I sought divine intervention ...” (Paul was very pious.)
Nyns o didhenys Powl gans ow lowender (nebes a’m anvodh), dell heveli: “Nyns o hwarthus, ‘Beder! Owth euthega dres eghenn o, yn hwir.” My a assayas y’m gwella stoppya ow lowender ha, meur ow haletter, ow gryslans vy eth dhe-ves. “Heb mar. Owth euthega. Dres eghenn, owth euthega ... Ytho, eses jy kontrawaytyes gans an omsettyans ma ‘a soudoryon dhelergh’?” Ev a benndroppyas, dihwarth y fisment. (Yn apert, ny garas meur ow ges assayes.) “Nyns esa mas onan anedha – ny via meur a zombis ow thremena der an ynkleudhva. Ytho, wosa ni dh’y fetha , ni a erviras triga omma. Ni a ylli ladra nebes boes (ha daffar rag y gegina) dhiworth chi an porther heb agan bos gwelys unnweyth arta. Ha, gans henna, yth eson omma a-dhia an termyn na – po dell grysav.” Yth esa aswa apert yn y gov – aswa na allsa Charles lenwel, dell grysyn. (Dhe’n lyha, na ylli ev y lenwel yn fydhyadow.) Ytho, my a erviras chasya an mater. “Fatell yllowgh hwi fetha an ...hmm, an Pennow-rond?” “Wel, euver yn tien o Charles, heb mar ...” a dhallathas Powl. (Y talgammas Charles ha dalleth protestya.) “... Ewnans: Y Veuredh Ryel a gemmeras a-dhistowgh maystri an studh ha, dre nerth a’y glamderans kolonnek, a wrug gasa dhymm y dhyghtya ...” Medhelhes dell dhegoegh, Charles a goedhas tawesek. Wosa wevyans meur y dhiwdhorn ha, wosa derivasow splann a weythresow, meur aga holonnekter, istori Powl o yndella: y bedrenn ow koesa yn hworfals, Powl noeth re allsa, dre y nerth fisigel, gul dhe gildenna an zombi. Byttegyns, an zombi ma re dreylsa y omsettyans ena troha kostenn arall, le y galetter.Furv Charles o, a’y worwedh ha heb omwodhvos war an leur. An studh ma a dhisplegyas dhymm keffrys dell via brethys Charles - ha dell via brethys rann moy ‘gwiw’ a’y gorf. “...Ytho, y’n tor’ na, my a wrug hwilas mellyans a Dhuw ...” (Meur o kryjyans Powl.)

THE HUNTER AND THE HUNTED Tinned carrots and corned beef – that was my first meal after escaping from Puckapunyal. And I was truly grateful for it. Presumably, the Sergeant had grabbed what he could from what was lying about in the mess and had thrown it into the kitbag. For ‘dessert’, there was a packet of rock-hard ‘dog biscuits’. Very nutritious, I’m sure, and lots of fibre – but they tasted like baked excrement. (Imagine being up to your thighs in mud, in the trenches of the Western Front, and then having to eat those dog biscuits. Yuck!) I gave some corned beef to David. Predictably, he looked at it scornfully (inasmuch as dead eyes can express scorn), made a very disapproving noise (which sounded like flatulence) and promptly discarded it. This was something I would need to work on. I knew I couldn’t readily obtain a regular supply of freshly killed human flesh. So, David would just have to find something else that suited his zombie palate. (And corned beef was obviously not that ‘something’.) By mid-afternoon, we decided to do a little exploring. On an adjacent hill-top, a hill which was much higher than the one into which the tunnel had been driven, there stood an abandoned watch-tower. You know, one of those spindly wooden towers that fire-fighters sit in to watch for any signs of smoke on the horizon or, close by, in the bush. This one had definitely not been in service for many years. Its structural members, made of local timber, were rotting and cracked. The whole thing had developed a discernible lean and the original cover for the platform that sat atop the structure had been blown away a long, long time ago. (Bits of it lay about the base, slowly melting into the humus.) Nevertheless, the tower was not entirely on the point of collapse and I was able, with some difficulty, to climb it. Just as I had suspected, this vantage point afforded me with a view not only of the surrounding bushland for miles around but, in the distance, of the main base at Puckapunyal. Far more importantly, I could see (more or less) right along the road that led to the base from the Scrub Hill area.
AN HELGHOR HA’N HUNI HELGHYES Karetys yn kanna ha bewin sellys – henn o’m kynsa boes wosa agan diank dhiworth Pukkapunyal. Hag, yn hwir, y hwodhva meur ras anodho. Dres lyklod, an Serjont re dhalgennsa pyth a ylli sesya yn mysk an taklow ow korwedha war vynkow y’n voesva ha’ga thewlel y’n sagh keyn. Avel melyssand, yth esa fardellik leun a desennow-kales, kales dres eghenn, leshenwys ‘tesennow-kales rag an keun’. Leun a vegyans, sur ov, ha gans meur a fiber – mes yth esens dhedha blas a gawgh fornyes. (Gwra tybi dha vos y’n kaskleudhyow an Voward a’n Howlsedhes, a’th sav down yn leys – hag ena res o dhis dybri an tesennow-kales na rag keun. Thukk!) My a ros tamm bewin sellys dhe Dhavydh. Yn targanadow, ev a viras orto, meur y skorn (mar kyll dewlagas marow diskwedhedhes skorn). Yn apert, kas o dhodho yn y gever. Ev a wrug son kepar ha bramm ha’y dewlel dhe-ves a- dhistowgh. Homm o neppyth may fia edhomm dhymm oberi. My a wodhya na yllyn menowgh kavoes proviansow a gig denel kro, heb meur a galetter. Ytho, res a via dhe Dhavydh kavoes neppyth arall dhe dhybri, neppyth o gwiw dh’y stevnik-zombi. (Ha nyns o bewin sellys an ‘neppyth’ na, yn apert.) Hanter-dohajydh, my a erviras gul neb hwithrans. War benn an nessa bre, bre ughella ages an huni le mayth esen ni, bre an gowfordh, y sevi tour-goelyador forsakyes. Henn yw leverel, onan a’n touryow, gwann ha prennek, may hwre esedha tangasoryon rag hwilas sinys a vog orth an gorwel – po y’n gwylvos nes dhedha. Yn sertan, ny via an huni ma devnydhyes dres lies blydhen. Yth esa ow leytha (ha felsys) y lithyow framweythel – gwrys gans prennyer dhiworth an gwylvos ma, heb dhout. Dres henna, yth esa poesans apert dhe’n drehevyans dien hag y halsa nans o termyn pur hir an skovva a esedhsa war y benn. (Yth esa temmyn anedhi skoellyes oll a-dro y ven, ow teudhi yn lent y’n dor.) Byttele, nyns o an tour hwath ow fyllel yn tien hag ytho y hyllyn, gans neb kaletter, y grambla. Kepar dell gryssen, penn an tour a ros dhymm gwel an lasneth oll a-dro, a-dreus milvilyow anedhi – hag, y’n pellder, my a ylli gweles selva Pukkapunyal. Ha, dres henna, y hyllyn gweles a-hys oll an fordh (po ogas) a ledya dhiworth an gwylvos a-dro dhe Vre an Krann dhe’n selva.

I approached one of the niches and, with a steel rod that was too hand, levered open the plate that sealed it from the outside. It was the one which, by the date on the plaque, had most recently been sealed – about three months previously. Immediately, I was assailed by the stench of human decay. Upon examination, using my “Pope” light, I saw that a bodily liquor was already seeping from the base of the coffin. Would that have affected the structural integrity of the wooden container? Maybe not - not yet. However, given David’s reluctance to fall in line with my plan, I decided he was unlikely to agree to get inside a box that had already been occupied for some time – even if we were able to eject the previous occupant. The other coffins in the crypt were unlikely to be in any better shape. So, it was either the extravagantly ornate, but empty, box – or stay put and think of another plan. I turned to David: “He who hesitates is lost, my friend. Let’s pick up the box again and see what we can do.” This time, bereft of other ideas, I gritted my teeth and lifted the ornate coffin in a ‘clean and jerk’ motion. I posed ‘my end’ on my shoulder and, David, with no obvious effort, did likewise. We exited the crypt as quietly as possible and I wondered how long I could hold my breath – which was the only way I could maintain sufficient strength for the lift. As I walked along a narrow path, towards the parked army vehicles, I recalled that David and I were distantly related to a famous Husband and Wife team of Power Lifters. I knew for certain that I had not had the relevant gene passed down to me – but David, my identical twin, was showing no pain. (How did that work?) Distracted by this thought, I managed to maintain the lift until we reached the khaki Holden utility. This was the vehicle I had chosen to take and, as it happened, it was the closest. I halted and nodded desperately in the direction of the vehicle: “Put it down – gently!” I breathed. David rested his end of the box on the open tailgate of the ute – and did so gently, as requested. This, however, meant that I needed to slide the box forward to the cab wall, whilst still holding the weight of the coffin on my by-now-bruised shoulder .
My a omneshas dhe onan yntra’n neythigow ha, gans gwelenn durek (a gevis vy a-ogas), kolpesa igor an plat re’n selsa dhiworth an tu a-ves. An huni o, herwydh dydhyas an blakk, re via selyes an moyha a-gynsow – nans o ogas dhe dri mis. A-dhistowgh, y feuv arvedhys gans fler poder denel. Dre hwithrans, ow kul devnydh a’m lugarn “Pab”, my a ylli gweles likour esa ow sygera seulabrys dhiworth ben an eler. Ewnhynseth gesweythel an gofenn brennek, a via henna kisys ganso? Martesen na – na hwath. Byttegyns, drefenn anvodh Davydh a-dro dhe’m towl, my a erviras nag o gwirhaval y vos akordyes gans y entrans yn boks okkupyes seulabrys dres nebes termyn – mar kallsen ni hogen tewlel yn-mes an annedhyas y’n eur na. Nyns o gwirhaval an geleryow erell y’n gleudhgell dhe vos yn gwella furv. Ytho, po kemmeres an eler ma, afinus mes gwag, po hy gasa – hag, y’n nessa kas na, res o dhyn kavoes towl arall. My a dreylas dhe Dhavydh: “An huni neb a hok yw kellys, ow sos. Gwren ni drehevel an boks rag gweles pyth a yllyn gul.” An prys ma, heb tybyansow arall vyth, my a wrug degea fast ow dyns ha drehevel an eler afinus yn mosion “clean ha jerk”. My a settyas penn an eler war ow skoedh ha, Davydh, heb stryvyans vyth, a’n gwrug yn kepar maner. Ni a asas an gleudhgell kosella gallen ha my a omwovynnas pes termyn esa dhymm bos heb anella – drefenn synsans ow gwyns o fordh unnsel may kyllyn gwitha nerth lowr rag an lyftyans na. Ha my kerdhys a-hys hyns ynn, wor’tu ha’n kerri-lu, my a borthas kov bos Davydh ha my unnwoes gans para ‘Gwreg ha Gour’ a Lyftoryon Nerthek, meur y vri. Sur ov nag esa dhymm kevrenn-enynnek grev gans an lyftoryon ma Byttegyns, nyns esa Davydh ow tiskwedhes kaletter vyth gans an ‘lyftyans’ – hag ev, ow gevell kehevelep. (Fatell a wrug henna oberi?) Ha my ombrederys a-dro dhe’n tybyans ma, my a ylli pesya gans an lyftyans erna dhrehedhsyn an karr-les, kaki y liw ha Holden y verk. Hemm o an karr re via dewisys bos kemmerys genen ha, dell hwarva, an nessa o dhyn ni. Y hedhis vy ha penndroppya yn desper wor’tu ha’n karr: “Iselha hi – yn kosel!” a hwythis vy. Davydh a worras benn an boks war an yet-lost igor – hag ev a’n gwrug yn kosel, kepar dell wovynnsen. Byttegyns, henn a styras bos res dhymm slynkya an eler yn-rag, bys dhe baros an kab, ha my synsys hwath y boester war ow skoedh, lemmyn pur vrywys.

REVELATION 5 The Scroll and the Lamb 1Then I saw in the right hand of him who sat on the throne a scroll with writing on both sides and sealed with seven seals. 2And I saw a mighty angel proclaiming in a loud voice, “Who is worthy to break the seals and open the scroll?” 3But no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth could open the scroll or even look inside it. 4I wept and wept because no one was found who was worthy to open the scroll or look inside. 5Then one of the elders said to me, “Do not weep! See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has triumphed. He is able to open the scroll and its seven seals.” 6Then I saw a Lamb, looking as if it had been slain, standing at the center of the throne, encircled by the four living creatures and the elders. The Lamb had seven horns and seven eyes, which are the seven spirits of God sent out into all the earth. 7He went and took the scroll from the right hand of him who sat on the throne. 8And when he had taken it, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders fell down before the Lamb. Each one had a harp and they were holding golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of God’s people. 9And they sang a new song, saying: “You are worthy to take the scroll and to open its seals, because you were slain, and with your blood you purchased for God persons from every tribe and language and people and nation. 10You have made them to be a kingdom and priests to serve our God, and they will reign on the earth.” 11Then I looked and heard the voice of many angels, numbering thousands upon thousands, and ten thousand times ten thousand. They encircled the throne and the living creatures and the elders. 12In a loud voice they were saying: “Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength and honor and glory and praise!” 13Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and on the sea, and all that is in them, saying: “To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be praise and honor and glory and power, for ever and ever!” 14The four living creatures said, “Amen,” and the elders fell down and worshiped.
DISKWEDHYANS 5 An Rol-skrifa ha'n Oen 1Ha my a welas y'n dhorn dhyghow a neb o esedhys war an tron, rol-skrifa, skrifys warnedhi a-ji ha war an keyn, selys gans seyth sel. 2Ha my welas el nerthek ow karma, ughel y lev, ‘Piw yw gwiw dhe igeri an rol ha terri hy selyow?’ 3Ha denvyth y'n nev, nag y'n nor nag yn-dann an nor ny ylli igeri an rol, na mires orti hi. 4Ha my a oelas yn feur rag na veu denvyth kevys gwiw dhe igeri ha redya an rol, na mires orti hi. 5Hag onan a'n henavogyon a leveris dhymm, ‘Na wra oela. Otta, lew loeth Yuda, Gwreydhenn Davydh, re fethas dhe igeri an rol ha'y seyth sel.’ 6Ha my a welas yn mysk an tron ha'n peswar kreatur bew, hag yn mysk an henavogyon, y sevi Oen kepar ha pan ve ledhys, gans seyth korn ha seyth lagas, yw seyth Spyrys Duw dannvenys yn-rag yn oll an norvys. 7Hag ev a dheuth ha kemmeres an rol yn-mes a'n dhorn dhyghow a neb o esedhys war an tron. 8Ha pan gemmeras an rol, an peswar kreatur bew, ha'n peswar henavek warn ugens a goedhas dhe'n dor a-dherag an Oen, pubonan gans telynn ha fiolyow owrek leun a ynkys, yw pysadow an syns. 9Ha kan nowydh a ganons i, ow leverel, ‘Gwiw osta dhe gemmeres an rol, hag igeri an selyow, rag ty a veu ledhys ha re dhasprensys tus dhe Dhuw gans dha woes yn-mes a bub loeth, ha yeth, ha pobel, ha kenedhel; 10ha ty a's gwrug gwlaskor hag oferysi dh'agan Duw, hag i a wra reynya war an norvys.’ 11Ha my a viras, ha klewes lev lies el a-dro dhe'n tron, ha'n kreaturs bew ha'n henavogyon; ha'n niver anedha o deg milweyth deg mil, ha milyow a vilyow, 12ow leverel, ughel aga lev, ‘Gwiw yw an Oen a veu ledhys dhe dhegemmeres galloes, ha rychys, ha furneth, ha nerth, hag enor, ha gordhyans, ha bennath.’ 13Ha pub kreatur y'n nev, ha war an nor, hag yn-dann an nor, hag y'n mor, ha pup-tra oll ynna i, a glewis vy ow leverel, ‘Dhe neb yw esedhys war an tron, ha dhe'n Oen, re bo bennath, hag enor, ha gordhyans ha galloes trank heb worfenn.’ 14Hag yn-medh an peswar kreatur bew, ‘Amen.’ Ha'n peswar henavek warn ugens a goedhas dhe'n dor ha gordhya.