it had come oor Kornies

it had come

Vertalings in die woordeboek Engels - Kornies

dothya

Soortgelyke frases

if it had come
mar teffa

he had it coming
gallas y wober ganjo

voorbeelde

if it had come
/ mar teffa / / /

it had come
/ dothya / / /

he had it coming
/ gallas y wober ganjo / / /

He had it coming to him.
Gallas y wober ganso.

When Mr Kirwan awoke, he couldn’t remember anything. But there was the mark of a woman’s hand around his wrist, that seemed to be burnt into the flesh. This mark remained with him until his death. Sometimes at night, there came to him a vision of the young woman with her necklace of pearls. But he never encountered the black horseman again. As for the silver cup, Mr Kirwan threw it into the lake, for he suspected that it had come to him by devilish sorcery. Thus, the cup sank beneath the waves and was seen no more.
Pan dhifunas Mester Kirwan, ny ylli ev perthi kov a dra vyth. Mes yth esa merk a leuv venyn a-dro dh’y gonna bregh, hag o leskys y’n kig, dell heveli. An merk ma a worta ganso bys dh’y vernans. Treweythyow, nosweyth, y teuth dhodho gwelesigeth a’n vowes yowynk gans hy delk a berlys. Mes ny vettyas ev orth an marghek du nevra namoy. Ow tochya an hanaf arghansek, Mester Kirwan a’n tewlis y’n lynn, drefen ev dhe wogrysi y tothya dhodho dre bystri dyowlek. Ytho, an hanaf a sedhis yn-dann an tonnow ha ny veu gwelys namoy.

To tell the truth, he was very reluctant to start, now that it had come to the point. Bag End seemed a more desirable residence than it had for years, and he wanted to savour as much as he could of his last summer in the Shire. When autumn came, he knew that part at least of his heart would think more kindly of journeying, as it always did at that season. He had indeed privately made up his mind to leave on his fiftieth birthday: Bilbo’s one hundred and twenty-eighth. It seemed somehow the proper day on which to set out and follow him. Following Bilbo was uppermost in his mind, and the one thing that made the thought of leaving bearable. He thought as little as possible about the Ring, and where it might lead him in the end. But he did not tell all his thoughts to Gandalf. What the wizard guessed was always difficult to tell.
Yn hwir, pur boes o ganso dhe dhalleth lemmyn. Bag End a hevelis bos treveth attessa ha moy desiradow es yn lies blydhen kyns, hag y fynnas ev omlowenhe dres y dhiwettha hav y’n Shayr kemmys ha gallas ev. Pan dho kynyav, ev a wodhva bos gwell gans rann y golonn vyajya, dell o usys dhe’n seson na. Yn privedh, ev re galeshas y vrys rag gasa dh’y hanterkansves penn-bloedh: kansves, eth warn ugens penn-bloedh Bylbo. Dell hevelis dhe Frodo, henn o an jydh ewn rag dalleth dh’y sywya. Sywya Bylbo o an poesekka tra yn y vrys, hag yth o an unn dra a wrug dhe’n dybyans gasa perthadow. Ev a dybis mar voghes ha gallas ev a-dro dhe’n bysow, ha’n fordh ma’n hembronkko warnedhi wostiwedh. Mes ny wrug ev leverel oll y dybyansow dhe Gandalf. An pyth a dhismygis an pystrier o kales dhe wodhvos pup-prys.

‘I do really wish to destroy it!’ cried Frodo. ‘Or, well, to have it destroyed. I am not made for perilous quests. I wish I had never seen the Ring! Why did it come to me? Why was I chosen?’
‘Y fynnav y dhistrui!’ a grias Frodo. ‘Po, wel, gul dhodho bos distruys. Ny veuv gwrys rag negysyow peryllus. My a vynn na welis vy nevra an Bysow! Prag y hwrug ev dos dhymmo vy? Prag y feuv evy dewisys?’

He took his own tea with Pippin and Sam Gamgee in the kitchen. It had been officially announced that Sam was coming to Buckland ‘to do for Mr. Frodo and look after his bit of garden’; an arrangement that was approved by the Gaffer, though it did not console him for the prospect of having Lobelia as a neighbour.
Ev a wrug y goen y’n gegin gans Pypyn ha Sam Gamji. Afydhys re beu Sam dhe dhos dhe Bukland ‘rag soedha orth Mstr Frodo ha gwitha y lowarth’; dyghtyans afydhys gans an Gafer, kyn na wrug henna y gonfortya erbynn kavoes Lobilia avel kentrevoges.

The Elves did not answer at once, but spoke together softly in their own tongue. At length Gildor turned to the hobbits. ‘We will not speak of this here,’ he said. ‘We think you had best come now with us. It is not our custom, but for this time we will lake you on our road, and you shall lodge with us tonight, if you will.’
Ny wrug an Elfow gorthybi a-dhesempis, mes i a geskewsis yn fedhel y’ga thaves aga honan. Wosa pols, Gyldor a dreylyas war-tu ha’n hobytow. ‘Ny vynnyn ni kewsel yn kever henna omma,’ ev a leveris. ‘Ni a dyb bos gwell hwi dhe dhos genen ni lemmyn. Nyns yw herwydh agan usadow, mes rag an termyn ma ni a vynn agas kemmeres y’gan fordh ni, ha hwi a vydh triga genen haneth, mar mynnydh.’

It was already nearly as hot as it had been the day before; but clouds were beginning to come up from the West. It looked likely to turn to rain. The hobbits scrambled down a steep green bank and plunged into the thick trees below. Their course had been chosen to leave Woodhall to their left, and to cut slanting through the woods that clustered along the eastern side of the hills, until they reached the flats beyond. Then they could make straight for the Ferry over country that was open, except for a few ditches and fences. Frodo reckoned they had eighteen miles to go in a straight line.
Seulabrys, yth o an gewer ogas ha mar boeth ha’n jydh kyns; mes yth esa komolennow ow talleth diskwedhes diworth an Howlsedhes. Dell hevelis hi a wrussa glaw. An hobytow a skramblas yn-nans torrlann gwyrdh serth ha troghya yn gwydh tew a-woeles. Aha hors re beu dewisys rag gorra Wudol a-gledh, ha gul hyns ledrek dres an koesow a vonnias*2 a-hys tu est an vre, bys yn i dhe dhrehedhes tir gwastas dredhi. Wosa henna, y hallsens i gul hyns ewn war-tu ha’n Kowbal dre bowdir o levan, marnas nebes kleudhyow ha keow. Frodo a dhismygis hyns a etek mildir a-hys linenn ewn.

About mid-day they came to a hill whose top was wide and flattened, like a shallow saucer with a green mounded rim. Inside there was no air stirring, and the sky seemed near their heads. They rode across and looked northwards. Then their hearts rose, for it seemed plain that they had come further already than they had expected. Certainly the distances had now all become hazy and deceptive, but there could be no doubt that the Downs were coming to an end. A long valley lay below them winding away northwards, until it came to an opening between two steep shoulders. Beyond, there seemed to be no more hills. Due north they faintly glimpsed a long dark line. That is a line of trees,' said Merry, 'and that must mark the Road. All along it for many leagues east of the Bridge there are trees growing. Some say they were planted in the old days.'
A-dro dhe hanter-dydh i a dheuth dhe vre efan ha gwastas hy fenn, haval orth skala bas gans kammek las krugys. Nyns esa ayr vydh ow kwaya a-ji dhedhi, hag yth esa an ebrenn nes dh’aga fennow dell hevelis. I a varghogas a-dreus dhedhi ha mires a-gledhbarth. Aga holon o pes da drefenn bos kler i dhe vyajya pella es aga gwaytyans dell hevelis dhedha. Yn sur, pellderyow re dheuth ha bos niwlek ha toellek, mes nyns esa dout vydh penn an Goenyow dhe neshe. Yth esa nans hir orth hy gorwel a-woeles dhedha, ow stumma y’n pellder a-gledhbarth, bys yn aswa ynter diw skoedh serth. Dresta, nyns esa breow moy dell hevelis. A-gledhbarth poran i a allsa gweles linennn dewl disliw. ‘Honn yw linenn a wydh,’ yn-medh Merri, ‘hag a vo keslinennek gans an Fordh. Yma gwydh ow tevi ryb an fordh dre lewyow pals dhe’n Est diworth an Pons. Nebes tus a lever i dhe vos plansys y’n dydhyow koth.’

Why was that? Just as many girls had been bitten – maybe more. Some had gone down with a fever but never real bad. No, not real bad. In a day or two, there was no more fever, no more symptoms at all. But the guys? Well, every one that had been bitten was now gone – except David. And finally, he, too, stood on the threshold of his next existence (if ‘existence’ was an apt word for what the others had become.) He moaned a little. I poured a little water on his lips. Mopped his brow. He relaxed and settled again. “Not long to go now, Mate,” I said, knowing he could not hear me. “But I’m still here. I won’t leave you.” I knew I would not leave him. Not ever. It was inconceivable. How had it come to this: a bunch of starving, scared kids holed up in a university library, surrounded by a mob of creatures that loitered noisily outside, wishing for nothing but to devour them? There had been no warning, no warning at all. This is how it was for us: David and I were sitting in a French lecture, ground floor, Redmond Barry Building, taking in lots about “Les philosophes”, when bang! In burst eight, ten, maybe a dozen of them, roaring and tearing, roaring and tearing. We thought it was a joke at first, some sort of student prank for ‘Prosh Week’. Only it wasn’t Prosh Week. And then one of the things seized the lecturer and tore her throat clean out, and when her arterial blood squirted some feet in the air, David and I knew it was no prank. The screaming started. Shrill, panicked screaming. The students were mainly female – David and I were very definitely in the minority. (We had liked it that way.) The creatures then hurled themselves at those in the auditorium – at those in the front rows, the most studious – and started tearing at them. More blood, much more blood, shredded clothing and flesh.
Praga? Y fia an mowesow brethys keniver ha polatys – moy martesen. Nebes anedha re wodhevsa terthenn mes nevra terthenn sevur. Na, terthenn sevur vyth. Wosa unn jydh po dew, nyns esa na fella terthenn ynna, an mowesow. Nyns esa sinys vyth. Mes an polatys? Wel, pubonan re via brethys o lemmyn gyllys – a-der Davydh. Ha, wor’tiwedh, y sevi ev war dreudhow an nessa bosva (mars o ‘bosva’ an ger gwiw rag studh a’n re erell na). Ev a gynas nebes. My a dhinewis tamm dowr war y dhiweus - ha sygha y dal. Ev a omdhiskwithas unnweyth arta. “Ny drig hirneth ragos lemmyn, ‘Vata,” yn-medhav vy, ow kodhvos na ylli ow klywes. “Mes yth esov vy hwath omma. Ny vynnav dha asa.” My a wodhya na yllyn y asa. Na nevra. Andhismygadow o hemma. Fatell hwarsa hemma? Bagas yonkers ownek, owth omgudha y’n lyverva pennskol, kyrghynnys gans rout kroaduryon a growdra yn trosek yn-mes, ow hwilas travyth saw aga devorya. Ny via gwarnyans vyth. Gwarnyans vyth. Hemm yw dell hwarva genen: Yth esa Davydh ha my a’gan esedh yn areth frynkek, leur a-woeles, Drehevyans Redmond Barry, ow klywes yn kever “An Philosophes”. Ena, frapp! Yth esa eth anedha, deg, dewdhek martesen, ow tardha y’n arethva, ow pedhygla hag ow skwardya, ow pedhygla hag ow skwardya ... Y’n kynsa le, ni a grysis y vos neb eghenn a ges-studyer a-barth an ‘Seythun Prosh’. Mes nyns o. Hag, ena, onan a’n draow na a settyas dalghenn war an arethores – ha skwardya yn-mes hy bryansenn. Hy goes arteriek a stifas nebes pellder y’n ayr – hag ytho Davydh ha my a wodhya nag esa hemma ges vyth. Y tallathas an skrijians. Skrijians gluw ha kruthys. Rann vrassa an studhyoryon o myrghes. Yth esa yn hwir Davydh ha my y’n rann vyghanna. (Ni re’n garsa yndella.) Ena, an groaduryon a omdhegesas orth an re esa y’n arethva – orth an re y’n esedhow a-rag, an moyha studhyus – ha dalleth skwardya orta. Yth esa moy goes, moy goes dres eghenn, dillas ha kig denel skethennek.

‘I do - when I know anything. But I don’t feel too sure about this whole affair. It has now come to the final point. You have had your joke, and alarmed or offended most of your relations, and given the whole Shire something to talk about for nine days, or ninety-nine more likely. Are you going any further?’
‘Gwrav - pan wonn vy neptra. Mes nyns ov vy sur a dro dhe’n dra dhien ma. Henn yw an pols finek. Ty re wrug dha es, ha brassa rann a’th neskerens yw anniys po offendys, ha ty re ros dhe’n Shayr dien neppyth may hyllons i klappya a dro dhodho dre naw dydh, nownsek ha peswar ugens yw gwirhavalla. A vynnydh jy mos pella?’

‘Well, no,’ answered Pippin. ‘To tell you the truth, since you have guessed it, we got into the lane from the other end: we had come over your fields. But that was quite by accident. We lost our way in the woods, back near Woodhall, trying to take a short cut to the Ferry.’
‘Wel, na,’ a worthybis Pypyn. ‘Yn hwir, dell wruss’ta dismygi, ni a dheuth y’n bownder dhe’n penn arall: ni a dheuth a-dreus dha barkow. Mes henn o dre gammwrians. Ni a gollas agan fordh yn koes, nes dhe Wudol, yth esen ni owth assaya gul skochfordh dhe’n Kowbal.

19Why, then, was the law given at all? It was added because of transgressions until the Seed to whom the promise referred had come. The law was given through angels and entrusted to a mediator. 20A mediator, however, implies more than one party; but God is one.
19Prag ytho an lagha? Keworrys veu drefenn drogoberow, erna dheffo an hasenn may feu gwrys dhedhi an ambos, ordenys der eledh, yn leuv mayn. 20Nyns yw mayn neppyth unnsel rag unn parti, mes Duw yw onan.

They looked back, but the turn of the road prevented them from seeing far. ‘I wonder if that is Gandalf coming after us,’ said Frodo; but even as he said it, he had a feeling that it was not so, and a sudden desire to hide from the view of the rider came over him.
I a viras war-dhelergh, mes treylyans an fordh a lettyas orta gweles pellder hir. ‘A allsa bos henna Gandalf, orth agan holya?’ a leveris Frodo; mes kettoeth ha’n ger, yth esa omglywes dhodho na vos honna an kas, ha distowgh yth esa mynnes dhodho kudha diworth gweles an marghek.

Now the time had come when he was near to his end. At that time there was an earthquake and it went all over the earth. a great darkness came about. the sun's presence was lost and (there were) more wonders also i believe than these.
nans o devedhys an prys mayth o ogas dh'y dhiwedh y'n eur na y feu dorgrys ha dres oll an bys ev tewolgow bras a veu gwrys an howl a gollas y feth ha moy marthus my a grys es an re ma 'veu ynwedh

Of course Omaze, when asked about this, says of course it could be a Cornish person that wins the Cornish house! But seeing as the winner of the Pennmeyn house had to sell it only eight weeks after winning as it “comes with a price to keep it and we can’t afford to”, I don’t find that reassuring. If he couldn’t afford to keep an eco-mansion with £50,000 and the salary of a Director of Operations in Leicestershire (where the average salary is £36,300), how will the average Cornish person afford to keep the Bodinnick house (even with £100,000) with running costs of £1500 a month that would leave the average Cornish earner with just £6 per day to live on for food, transport and anything not housing?
Heb mar Omaze, pan yw hemma govynnys dhedha, a lever heb mar y hyll bos Kernow a waynnyo an chi Kernewek! Mes drefen bos res dhe waynyer an chi Pennmeyn y wertha eth seythen hepken wosa y waynya awos y “teu gans kost y witha ha ny yllyn affordya y wul”, ny dybav bos henna meur a gonfort. Mar ny allas ev affordya gwitha eko-mansyon gans £50,000 ha gober a Gevarwodher a Oberyans yn Konteth Leicester (le mayth yw an gober kresek £36,000), fatel alsa an Kernow kresek affordya gwitha an chi Bosdinek (gans £100,000 hogen) gans kostys oberi a £1500 pub mis na wrussa alowa dhe’n gwaynyer Kernewek kresek marnas £6 pub dydh rag bewa rag boos, treusporth ha puptra nag yw anedhi?

Unperturbed, David shook it off, sidestepped and deftly struck out with the hockey stick. The beast was gone. One blow from David was all it had taken. Now the auditorium was cleared of them. Only their corpses remained, sprawled here and there – and none of them looked like they would be moving about again any time soon. Quickly, he and I summoned one or two of the students who had lingered timorously at the exits – and there really were only one or two. The rest of the students were still running, we supposed. Together, we gathered five of the victims who seemed still to be living and carried their bloodied bodies to the Baillieu Library. It had not been a deep wound, David’s wound. It did not even require a stitch. But it had been enough to pass on the infection. And so, here he lay, a hero whose actions had saved the lives of some of those who now wished to cast him outside before he, too, ‘changed’. Fear trumps gratitude every time. “Not long now, Mate,” I whispered and mopped his brow again. Where had it come from, this infection? Short answer: I don’t know. This is not part of the story that I can tell – but I can tell you what I know and let you puzzle over it yourself. As we sheltered in the dubious protection of the Baillieu Library, we accessed a fairly beaten-up black and white TV that we found in the Head Librarian’s office. (Obviously, the library’s budget didn’t yet run to purchasing one of those expensive, new-fangled colour TV’s.) When we first tuned in, nothing of note. Everything was normal as far as the TV broadcasters were concerned – all the usual programmes: cooking, old movies, chat shows, cartoons – completely uninterrupted. There was no newsflash until over an hour after the creatures had burst in upon us in the French lecture. Then the first newsflash: sketchy and delivered in a jocular fashion by a disbelieving newsreader who concluded: “...Hey! Is this April Fools’ or what?!”
Andhistemprys, Davydh a shakyas dhe-ves an best. Ev a wrug kamm a- denewen ha’y weskel, meur y sleyghneth, gans y welenn hokki. Gyllys o an best. Unn hwaff dhiworth Davydh re via lowr. Lemmyn, klerhes anedha o an arethva. Ny remaynya travyth a-der aga horfow, gorlesys oll yn kyrghynn – ha nyns esa den anvarow vyth yntredha a waysa arta yn skon. Uskis, Davydh ha my a elwis dhe’n studhyoryon, dew po tri hepken, re darysa, meur aga ownekter, ogas dhe’n mallborthow. Yth esa remnant an studhyoryon hwath ow resek, dell heveli dhyn. Warbarth, ni a guntellas pymp vyktym a heveli bos hwath yn fyw ha degi aga horfow goesek dhe’n Lyverva Baillieu. Ny via goli down, goli Davydh. Nyns esa edhomm a wri hogen. Mes y fia goli lowr rag lesa an klevesans. Hag ytho, yth esa ev a’y worwedh, den bras y golonn. Ev re salwsa bywnansow an re a vynna lemmyn y dewlel yn-mes kyns ev dhe janjya keffrys. Pup-prys an own a wayn erbynn an gras. “Ny vydh hirneth lemmyn, ‘vata,” my a hwystras ha sygha y dal unnweyth arta. A byle y lammsa an klevesans ma? Gorthyp berr: ny wonn vy. Nyns yw hemma rann an hwedhel a allav derivas dhis – mes y hallav derivas pyth a wonn vy ha ty a yll ombrederi warnodho dha honan. Ha ni omskeusys yn-dann difresyans doutys an Lyverva Baillieu, ni a gavas pellwolok (gwynn ha du hy imajys ha nebes usyes o) yn soedhva Pennlyveryas. (Yn apert, nyns esa towlargh lowr an lyverva rag prena hwath pellwolok nowydh ha liwek hy imajys.) Y’n kynsa le, pan skwychsyn ni yn fyw an jynn koth ma, nyns esa travyth o marthek. Y’n tir-bellwolok, yth esa pup-tra oll herwydh usadow: keginieth, filmys koth, towlennow-glapp, gesdelinyansow – anwoderrys yn tien. Nyns esa lughesenn-nowodhow vyth erna dremensa moy es unn our wosa an groaduryon dhe dardha y’n areth frynkek. Ena, an kynsa lughesenn-nowodhow: heb manylyon ha kewsys yn fordh hwarthus. Lenner-nowodhow ankryjyk a worfennas an erthygel y’n for’na: “...Hay! Yw hemma dydh Foll-Ebrel?!” 11

REVELATION 13 The Beast out of the Sea 1The dragon stood on the shore of the sea. And I saw a beast coming out of the sea. It had ten horns and seven heads, with ten crowns on its horns, and on each head a blasphemous name. 2The beast I saw resembled a leopard, but had feet like those of a bear and a mouth like that of a lion. The dragon gave the beast his power and his throne and great authority. 3One of the heads of the beast seemed to have had a fatal wound, but the fatal wound had been healed. The whole world was filled with wonder and followed the beast. 4People worshiped the dragon because he had given authority to the beast, and they also worshiped the beast and asked, “Who is like the beast? Who can wage war against it?” 5The beast was given a mouth to utter proud words and blasphemies and to exercise its authority for forty-two months. 6It opened its mouth to blaspheme God, and to slander his name and his dwelling place and those who live in heaven. 7It was given power to wage war against God’s holy people and to conquer them. And it was given authority over every tribe, people, language and nation. 8All inhabitants of the earth will worship the beast—all whose names have not been written in the Lamb’s book of life, the Lamb who was slain from the creation of the world. 9Whoever has ears, let them hear. 10“If anyone is to go into captivity, into captivity they will go. If anyone is to be killed with the sword, with the sword they will be killed.” This calls for patient endurance and faithfulness on the part of God’s people. The Beast out of the Earth 11Then I saw a second beast, coming out of the earth. It had two horns like a lamb, but it spoke like a dragon. 12It exercised all the authority of the first beast on its behalf, and made the earth and its inhabitants worship the first beast, whose fatal wound had been healed. 13And it performed great signs, even causing fire to come down from heaven to the earth in full view of the people. 14Because of the signs it was given power to perform on behalf of the first beast, it deceived the inhabitants of the earth. It ordered them to set up an image in honor of the beast who was wounded by the sword and yet lived. 15The second beast was given power to give breath to the image of the first beast, so that the image could speak and cause all who refused to worship the image to be killed. 16It also forced all people, great and small, rich and poor, free and slave, to receive a mark on their right hands or on their foreheads, 17so that they could not buy or sell unless they had the mark, which is the name of the beast or the number of its name. 18This calls for wisdom. Let the person who has insight calculate the number of the beast, for it is the number of a man. That number is 666.
DISKWEDHYANS 13 An Dhew Vest 1Ha my a welas best ow trehevel yn-mes a'n mor, ha ganso deg korn ha seyth penn ha deg diadem war y gern, ha hanow blasfemi war y bennow. 2Ha'n best a welis o kepar ha lewpard, ha'y bawyow kepar ha pawyow ors, ha'y vin kepar ha min lew, ha'n dhragon a ros dhodho hy nerth, ha'y thron, ha galloes meur. 3Ha my a welas onan a'y bennow kepar ha pan ve goliys bys yn ankow, ha sawys veu y woli marwel, hag y feu marth gans oll an bys ow siwya war-lergh an best. 4Hag i a wordhyas an dhragon rag hi dhe ri galloes dhe'n best: hag i a wordhyas an best, ow leverel, ‘Piw yw kepar ha'n best, ha piw a yll gwerrya ganso?’ 5Ha ganow a veu res dhodho, ow leverel taklow meur ha blasfemiow; ha galloes a veu res dhodho dhe weytha dew vis ha dew-ugens. 6Hag ev a igoras y anow yn blasfemiow erbynn Duw dhe vlasfemya y hanow ha'y dabernakel, ha'n re a drig yn nev. 7Hag y feu res dhodho dhe werrya gans an syns, ha'ga fetha: ha galloes a veu res dhodho war bub loeth ha pobel ha taves ha kenedhel. 8Hag oll trigoryon an norvys a wra y wordhya, nag yw skrifys aga henwyn yn lyver bewnans an Oen a veu ledhys, a-ban veu an norvys dallethys. 9Den mara'n jeves skovarn, klewes ev. 10Neb a ello yn kethneth, yn kethneth yth a: neb a vo ledhys gans kledha, gans kledha y fydh ledhys. Ottomma perthyans ha fydh an syns. 11Ha my a welas ken best owth yskynna yn-mes a'n dor; hag yth esa dhodho dew gorn kepar hag oen, hag yth esa ow kewsel kepar ha dragon. 12Hag ev a ober gans oll an galloes a'n kynsa best a-dheragdho, hag ev a wra dhe'n dor ha dhe'n re a drig ynno gordhya an kynsa best hag a veu sawys y woli marwel. 13Hag ev a wra toknys bras may hwra dhe dan diyskynna dhiworth nev dhe'n dor a-dherag tus. 14Hag ev a doell an drigoryon war an bys der an toknys a veu res dhodho dhe wul a-dherag an best; ow leverel dhe'n re a drig war an bys may hwrellens imaj dhe'n best a veu goliys der an kledha hag a vewa. 15Hag y feu grontys dhodho dhe ri bewnans dhe imaj an best may kowssa imaj an best, ha may hwrella, kemmys na vynnens gordhya imaj an best dhe vos ledhys. 16Hag ev a wra dhe bub den, byghan ha bras, ha rych ha boghosek, ha rydh ha keth, degemmeres merk war an dhorn dhyghow, po war an tal, 17ha ma na alla denvyth na prena na gwertha, marnas neb a'n jevo an merk, hanow an best, po niver y hanow. 18Ottomma skentoleth. Neb a'n jevo skians niveres ev niver an best, drefenn y vos niver den; ha'y niver yw hwegh kans hwegh ha tri-ugens.

1And when it came to pass that we were parted from them and had set sail, we came with a straight course unto Cos, and the next day unto Rhodes, and from thence unto Patara: 2and having found a ship crossing over unto Phoenicia, we went aboard, and set sail. 3And when we had come in sight of Cyprus, leaving it on the left hand, we sailed unto Syria, and landed at Tyre; for there the ship was to unlade her burden. 4And having found the disciples, we tarried there seven days: and these said to Paul through the Spirit, that he should not set foot in Jerusalem. 5And when it came to pass that we had accomplished the days, we departed and went on our journey; and they all, with wives and children, brought us on our way till we were out of the city: and kneeling down on the beach, we prayed, and bade each other farewell; 6and we went on board the ship, but they returned home again.
1Lemmyn dell hwarva, ha ni omdennys dhiworta, ni a woelyas, ow siwya resegva gewar dhe Kos, ha ternos dhe Rhodos hag alena dhe Patara. 2Pan gavsen gorhel parys dhe vos dres an mor dhe Fenikia, ni eth a-bervedh ha goelya. 3Hag owth aspia Syprus hag orth y asa a'n barth kledh, ni a woelyas dhe Syria ha dos yn-nans dhe Tyr drefenn bos res dhe'n gorhel diskarga ena. 4Hag ow kavoes an dhyskyblon ni a wortas ena seyth dydh. Der an Spyrys i a leveris dhe Powl nag ella yn-bann dhe Yerusalem. 5Mes, ha'gan dydhyow ena diwedhys, ni eth alena ha pesya yn agan vyaj, i oll gans aga gwragedh ha'ga fleghes orth agan hembronk yn-mes a'n sita. Ena ni eth war benn-dewlin y'n treth ha pysi 6ha gasa farwell an eyl gans y gila ha mos a-bervedh y'n gorhel, hag i a dhehwelis tre.

But after a few more hours, seeing we still had significant numbers present, and with people answering the call to come back, they gave up and went home. It should have been a really empowering day, and in many ways it was. I think, for many people, it was. And it was great to share small gestures of solidarity with refugees, too— smiling and waving through the windows.
Mes wosa euryow boghes moy, ow kweles bos dhyn niverow bras lowr ena, ha gans tus ow korthebi dhe’n galow dhe dhehweles, i a hepkorras ha mos tre. Y kodh bos dydh pur nerthus, hag yn lies fordh yth o. My a dyb, rag lies tus, yth o. Ha bryntin o kevrenna sinys byghan a unveredh gans an fowesigyon, ynwedh—ow minhwerthin ha gwevya dres an fenestri.

I wish - I mean, I hoped until this evening that it was only a joke,’ said Frodo. ‘But I knew in my heart that he really meant to go. He always used to joke about serious things. I wish I had come back sooner, just to see him off.’
‘My a vynn – wel, yth esa govenek dhymm henna dhe vos namoy es ges bys y’n gorthugher ma,’ yn medh Frodo. ‘Mes my a wodhva y’m kolonn bos hwans gwir dhodho mos. Pup-prys ev a wre ges yn kever traow sad. My a vynn may tehwelsen vy a-varra, rag leverel duw genes.’

There were, as I’ve said, low privet hedges on both sides of the garden – leading to a small, wrought-iron gate on the street corner. A concrete pathway then led to the front door. Curiously, the gate had been secured with a chain. This did not seem to make any sense because the gate itself was low enough simply to jump over and was therefore not designed to keep intruders out. Maybe it was meant to keep pet dogs in – I don’t really know. So, why mention it at all? Well, it had obviously presented an obstacle to someone who had come to deliver a parcel to the residence. Instead of taking it to the front door, the parcel had simply been dropped by the gate and left for the residents to find later . Serendipity! Regardless of its contents, I decided the parcel was mine – and I immediately took possession of it. Having done so, I left the somnolent guard to his snoring and discreetly returned to the crypt to examine my prize. o0o I was pleased to note that David had apparently missed me. He met me at the door of the crypt and displayed what I interpreted as unusual attention towards me. However, given that he had been largely ignoring me for some days, this was not saying a great deal. “Hey, Dave,” I whispered exultantly and held the parcel high. “Santa’s been! He brought you a prezzo. You must have been a good little zombie!” He emitted an amused sort of grunt – leastwise, that’s how it seemed to me. Maybe his rudimentary brain still computed ‘Santa’ and ‘prezzo’. These concepts are, after all, deeply ingrained in the psyche of all western children. I placed the parcel on the floor. It was wrapped in several layers of stiff, brown tar-paper and tied with numerous turns of thick twine. (Ah! They don’t wrap ‘em like that anymore, do they?). There was an envelope pushed roughly under the twine but not otherwise secured to the parcel. Was it meant to go with the parcel or was it separate? I decided to put it aside in favour of watching what David would do with ‘Santa’s prezzo’.
Dell leveris vy, yth esa perthi a skeuswydh war dhew du an lowarth hag i a dheuth warbarth dhe gornell an stret yn yet vyghan gwrys gans horn oberys. Alena, hyns a gentevynn eth dhe’n dharas-rag. Yn koynt, an yet re via gwrys fast gans kadon. Ny heveli hemma bos pur gonnyk drefenn an yet dhe vos isel lowr bys may hyllys lamma dresti. Ytho, nyns esa an yet desinyes rag gwitha yn-mes ynherdhyoryon. Martesen, desinyes o hi rag gwitha keun a-bervedh – ny wonn yn hwir. Ytho, prag y hwrav y gampoella? Wel, an yet ma o, yn apert, lett lowr rag nebonan a vynna gul livreson dhe’n drigva. Yn le y gemmeres dhe’n dharas-rag, ev re assa yn sempel an fardell a- dherag dhe’n yet rag an drigoryon dhe gavoes diwettha. Chonseuster! Heb prederi a’n synsas, my a erviras an fardell dhe vos dhymmo vy – hag, a-dhesempis, my a’n kevis. Gans henna, my a asas an gwithyas ow renki ha dehweles yn kosel dhe’n gleudhgell rag anvaylya ow fiwas. o0o Pes da en vy dhe notya, yn apert, Davydh dhe yeuni ragov. Ev a dheuth er ow bynn dhe dharas an gleudhva ha diskwedhes pyth a grysyn bos bern nag o herwydh usadow y’m kever. Byttegyns, drefenn ev dhe skonya ow aswonnans, dre vras, dres nebes dydhyow, nyns o hemma leverel meur. “Ay, ‘Dhav!,” a hwystris vy, heudhik fest, ha my synsys ughel an fardel. “Santa re dheuth! Ev re dhros dhis rohik. Yth heveli dha vos Zombi byghan da!” Ev a dhellos rogh nebes didhanys – dhe’n lyha, yth heveli yndella dhymmo vy. Martesen, y ympynnyon elvennek a ylli hwath konvedhes geryow kepar ha ‘Santa’ ha ‘rohik’. An tybyansow ma yw, wosa oll, ynkleudhys yn town yn brysyow an fleghes a’n howlsedhes. My a worras an fardel war an leur. Maylyes o yn lies gwiskas gwrys a baper- pyg gorm ha kelmys gans nebes troyow a lovannen dew. (A! Ny vaylir denvyth na fella kepar dell o maylyes an fardel ma. A nyns yw henna gwir?). Yth esa maylyer re via herdhys garow yn-dann an lovannen mes nyns o kelmys ken dhe’n fardel. A dalvien ev mos gans an fardel po o ev diblans dhiworto? My a erviras y worra a-denewen. Gwell o genev mires orth Davydh gans an rohik dhiworth Santa.

He had hardly sat down, when there came a soft knock at the front-door. ‘Lobelia again most likely,’ he thought. ‘She must have thought of something really nasty, and have come back again to say it. It can wait.’
Skant ny wrug ev esedha, kyns bos knouk medhel dhe’n daras a-rag. ‘Gwirhaval yw henna dhe vos Lobilia arta,’ ev a dybis. ’Martesen hi a wrug lavar drog yn hwir ha hi a dhewelas dh’y leverel. Nyns yw dhe-les dhymm lemmyn.’