it would like oor Kornies
it would like
Vertalings in die woordeboek Engels - Kornies
hi a garsa
Geskatte vertalings
Vertoon algoritmies gegenereerde vertalings
voorbeelde
Advanced filtering
Voorbeelde moet herlaai word.
For I would have something so it would not be of any man [...] For the like that is in head and pray with them I will
My a’s kar.langbot langbot
I would like to thank all those who contributed; it demonstrated to us the commitment and passion for culture that exists across Cornwall.
Yth esov vy owth assaya perthi kov hanow an lyver.langbot langbot
I would like to thank you all for attending the Show and I hope you find it both valuable and enjoyable.
Res vydh dhodho mos ena.langbot langbot
I would like to thank you all for attending the show and hope that you find it a source of innovation, education and most importantly enjoyable.
Nyns yw res dhis diberth lemmyn.langbot langbot
‘He felt better at once,’ said Gandalf. ‘But there is only one Power in this world that knows all about the Rings and their effects; and as far as I know there is no Power in the world that knows all about hobbits. Among the Wise I am the only one that goes in for hobbit-lore: an obscure branch of knowledge, but full of surprises. Soft as butter they can be, and yet sometimes as tough as old tree-roots. I think it likely that some would resist the Rings far longer than most of the Wise would believe. I don’t think you need worry about Bilbo.
Res yw dhyn diberth.langbot langbot
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.’
“A vyn’ta y brena?” “Mynnav.”langbot langbot
Then when Pilate heard that they were talking like this, he became worried for fear that they would tell it and make it known throughout the land for certain, close at hand and far away, so that men would come in great force to wage a war of rebellion against him.
Diwedhes yw.langbot langbot
Pilate knew well that they spoke out of malice. Because of this he would have liked to protect christ from abuse, and he said to them, ``if it is what you want, i will chastise him as one who is utterly foolish, and set him free.
Ny wor den vyth hy hanow.langbot langbot
‘The meaning of it, fair people,’ said Frodo, ‘is simply that we seem to be going the same way as you are. I like walking under the stars. But I would welcome your company.’
Henn yw gorhel.langbot langbot
‘I don’t know what has come over you, Gandalf,’ he said. ‘You have never been like this before. What is it all about? It is mine isn’t it? I found it, and Gollum would have killed me, if I hadn’t kept it. I’m not a thief, whatever he said.’
Kas yw genev an glaw.langbot langbot
Pilate would have liked to preserve the life of Jesus by a subterfuge, and he spoke to them thus, as it is written, ``now look, which is it of the men that shall be set free, christ - you can tell a reason - or barabbas, a man condemned?
Diwedhes yw.langbot langbot
I would like to thank everyone who has helped develop this Strategy and in particular those Partners who will help up us deliver the priorities contained within it to prevent homelessness and rough sleeping in Cornwall.
Ow mamm a gegin yn ta.langbot langbot
There will be some translations of stories in the English public domain by me coming in the future (one is nearly ready already) too. I thought maybe it would be OK to allow you to donate to me for my works if you wanted. I don’t want this to be necessary, just possible if you’d like to.
My a yll ponya.langbot langbot
! There will be some translations of stories in the English public domain by me coming in the future (one is nearly ready already) too. I thought maybe it would be OK to allow you to donate to me for my works if you wanted. I don’t want this to be necessary, just possible if you’d like to.
Nyns yw da genev keun bras.langbot langbot
“When I saw a US F4 Phantom drop napalm on thousands of my fellow students, burning them all to death in a most painful and horrific way, I knew that it was killing kids that would soon recover – hundreds of them. It was like Dresden. It was like the fire-bombing of Tokyo. Gentlemen, that’s a major war crime. That’s not a battle. That’s not war. That’s why they hanged Generals at Nuremburg!...” Time was indeed short. I could see the guards hurrying to the stage. I had to raise my voice to be heard above the other voices that were now being raised. I started screaming: “...I can’t tell you why your government sent you here. That’s political. But I can tell you that you’ve been sent to war on the basis of a lie! Does that sound familiar? Well, does it? Have you heard of the so-called ‘Gulf of Tonkin Incident’? How many of you have still got brothers risking their lives in ‘Nam because of it? ...” These were the last words I managed to get out before I, too, was hit with a cattle-prod – and screamed very heartily. The hall was in uproar. There was complete pandemonium – just as I’d hoped. The Captain approached my cage as I lay spasming in the floor and hit me with another powerful jolt of electricity from one of the other cattle prods. (Perfect for my plans – but painful all the same.) “Leave him alone, you bastard!” shouted one of the GI’s. “You’re killin’ him!” And, with that, he and several of his buddies rushed on stage to protect me. Cosmic! For an instant, I thought they might actually free me – though that had not been my immediate plan – but the guards drew their side-arms and aimed them squarely at the stage invaders. Sensibly, they retreated. The Captain dropped his prod, came close and looked me in the eye. There was deep hatred in his look. I had wilfully robbed him of his moment of glory. Good. Now to see what the GI’s would do with the (quite plausible) disinformation that I had provided them.
Yth esov vy ow tyski Godhalek.langbot langbot
‘Of course, I have sometimes thought of going away, but I imagined that as a kind of holiday, a series of adventures like Bilbo’s or better, ending in peace. But this would mean exile, a flight from danger into danger, drawing it after me. And I suppose I must go alone, if I am to do that and save the Shire. But I feel very small, and very uprooted, and well - desperate. The Enemy is so strong and terrible.’
Os ta studhyer?langbot langbot
Bilbo drew his hand over his eyes. I am sorry,’ he said. ‘But I felt so queer. And yet it would be a relief in a way not to be bothered with it any more. It has been so growing on my mind lately. Sometimes I have felt it was like an eye looking at me. And I am always wanting to put it on and disappear, don’t you know; or wondering if it is safe, and pulling it out to make sure. I tried locking it up, but I found I couldn’t rest without it in my pocket. I don’t know why. And I don’t seem able to make up my mind.’
Res yw dhis assaya.langbot langbot
Soon seeing that this manner of working had no hope at all, “Miss” turned to the girls instead. As it seemed, the girls were unencumbered by the shyness that had crippled the boys. To my amazement the first girl replied to the question “Who would you like to go to the party with?” with my own name. And the next girl said the same thing. And the next. And the next.
Prag yth yw res dhis gul henna lemmyn?langbot langbot
‘That all depends on what you think the Riders would do, if they found you here,’ answered Merry. ‘They could have reached here by now, of course, if they were not stopped at the North-gate, where the Hedge runs down to the river-bank, just this side of the Bridge. The gate-guards would not let them through by night, though they might break through. Even in the daylight they would try to keep them out, I think, at any rate until they got a message through to the Master of the Hall - for they would not like the look of the Riders, and would certainly be frightened by them. But, of course, Buckland cannot resist a determined attack for long. And it is possible that in the morning even a Black Rider that rode up and asked for Mr. Baggins would be let through. It is pretty generally known that you are coming back to live at Crickhollow.’
Nyns yw da genev hav.langbot langbot
We made it. I slammed the crypt door behind us – and, as I slumped to the cold concrete floor, I couldn’t help but let out a sob or two of relief. David came to sit beside me. He reached out and took my hand in his own cold, rough paw. He patted my hand like he had patted the wretched cat. I was amazed by this gesture – and it caused me to wonder if he were really so inhuman now. Soon, I would investigate.
Ottomma dha gi.langbot langbot
VENTURING OUT. I didn’t get any more out of him for the rest of the time we were there either. The attempt at getting David to play cards had backfired badly. He withdrew from me and refused to interact – cards were definitely off his agenda. In fact, I woke one night to find him shredding the entire pack – card by card. I’m not sure how many days we stayed in the crypt. I didn’t specifically count and the difference between daylight and night-time inside the crypt was not always clear-cut. Let’s just say we were there a few days before I even considered leaving. After all, we were warm enough, safe from intruders (no- one ever came knocking) and, for the time being, there was ample food and water . But we couldn’t stay there forever, could we? Within 48 hours or so of our taking shelter in the crypt, the fighting seemed to have stopped. Gunfire had dwindled from merely sporadic to non-existent. There were no audible groans, screams or cries of panic. From this, I deduced that the zombies hereabouts were a spent force – if not altogether extinct. So, if I ventured out in the dead of night without David, I was now unlikely to be eaten – but would I be shot? That was the question. How many of the soldiers remained in place after the battle was done and how many had moved onto where they were now more needed. I would have to check it out – 4.00 am on a moonless night seemed like a good time to start. Before I left, I told David that I would be gone for a short time but that I would return very soon. He looked at me impassively. Did he understand what I had said? I asked him. He remained impassive. As I said, he had been quite withdrawn of late – since the abortive card game – and maybe he just didn’t care as much about me anymore. Who would know? I decided I needed to do my reconnaissance whether or not David understood – or cared.
Os ta demedhys?langbot langbot
“I’d like to get some food to them – to keep them going till relief comes. If it comes. Any ideas?” I expected that Paul would think this a dangerous, if not impossible, task to achieve. But, no. His response was as quick as it was matter-of-fact: “There’s a truck parked just to the North of the cemetery in Lygon Street, a refrigerated truck like they use to make deliveries to supermarkets. I saw it on the afternoon of day two, just before everything went black for me. The diesel engine was still idling at the time and the refrigeration unit was still running. No sign of any driver. The truck might still be there.” Amazing. “And full of food?” I asked. “Probably. I didn’t bother to check inside. Charles and I had already raided the gate-keeper’s house. We didn’t need more food at that time – and it wasn’t worth the risk of exposing ourselves by going out in the open. However, as you can see, I made a mental note of the vehicle for future reference.” “Will you come with me and David to check it out?” “Fuck off!” said Paul. “You don’t need me and, even if you did, I’m not yet that hungry.” There was nothing more to be said. I called out to David. He didn’t come. I needed to go inside to arouse him from his afternoon torpor. (Yes, I did kick him and, yes, he did complain loudly.) “Come on, Dave. We’ve got work to do.”
Res yw dhymm diberth dy Lun.langbot langbot
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.
Ny’n gwelas Tomm.langbot langbot
I put on the sergeant’s uniform. It fitted well. The boots fitted well also. But the slouch hat ...? It floated on top of my huge afro and then slid off the back completely. This was a problem. In any event, I thought, Sergeants in the Australian Army probably don’t have afro hair styles. I loved my afro. It was the object of envy of all my female friends. Many used to run their fingers through it – just to see if it were real. They were convinced, if it were real, that I used ‘one hundred and one’ hot rollers every night to maintain the style. This was not true. I didn’t do anything at all to it – just a very quick comb in the morning. Nothing more. However, the afro had to go – and go now. Fortunately, the person who had maintained the flowers in the crypt had left a large pair of scissors – used to trim the stems, I suppose. Anyway, in a few minutes, I had hacked the whole afro from my head. It lay on the floor like a dead creature. David retreated to a corner, staring at me. Perhaps he feared that his afro was next. But there was no need for that – not yet, in any case. So, how did the haircut look? Awful. But it would be hidden under the slouch hat. The hat fitted me now – and I didn’t look like Sergeant Hippy, only Sergeant Very Young. When I had completed dressing myself in the Sergeant’s uniform – and had duly straightened all the sharply pressed seams – I turned to David (who was still a little fearful) and exhibited myself: “Ta-dah! What do you think, mate? Do I exude an air of authority?” I’m not sure what, if anything, he thought of my new appearance. He remained stone-faced at the sight of me – though he did look me up and down. “No matter,” I said. “Now it’s your turn.” I bade him come forward to me but he merely retreated, grunting his disapproval. (Not a good start for my grand plan). I thus needed to gently cajole David for over an hour, a precious hour, before he relented and let me start removing his also recently washed – but even more stained and filthy – clothes.
Nyns eus dhymm diw gath.langbot langbot
This was an entirely unexpected turn of events. Was he merely toying with me – like a cat with a mouse – or was he serious? I decided that, maybe, he was serious. He was, after all, both a senior military officer and a medical man. It was worth answering his question – I had nothing to lose. “I would prefer life, Sir,” I answered simply. “Well, then, my friend. Answer this question: are you and the thing over there identical twins by birth?” I nodded uncertainly and a broad grin broke across his face. What had I done?
Res yw dhymm godhvos.langbot langbot
56 sinne gevind in 11 ms. Hulle kom uit baie bronne en word nie nagegaan nie.