smile oor Kornies

smile

/smaɪl/ werkwoord, naamwoord

A facial expression comprised by flexing the muscles of both ends of one's mouth while showing the front teeth, without vocalisation, and in humans is a common involuntary or voluntary expression of happiness, pleasure, amusement or anxiety.

Vertalings in die woordeboek Engels - Kornies

gwen

vroulike, hanow benow

a happy face expression using mouth, but without producing voice

minhwarth

manlike, hanow gorow

a happy face expression using mouth, but without producing voice

minhwerthin

hanow verbel, verb-hanow

wherthyn

Soortgelyke frases

smiling grimly
yn unn vinhwerthin fell

smiling
yn unn vinhwerthin

beautiful smile
minhwarth teg

fixed smile
gwen gales · gwen stag

with a smile
yn unn vinhwerthin

while smiling
yn unn vinhwerthin

smile in the sky
kammneves a-wartha dhe-woles

smiling
yn unn vinhwerthin

voorbeelde

He soon found that the thicket was closer and more tangled than it had appeared. There were no paths in the undergrowth, and they did not get on very fast. When they had struggled to the bottom of the bank, they found a stream running down from the hills behind in a deeply dug bed with steep slippery sides overhung with brambles. Most inconveniently it cut across the line they had chosen. They could not jump over it, nor indeed get across it at all without getting wet, scratched, and muddy. They halted, wondering what to do. ‘First check!’ said Pippin, smiling grimly.
Yn skon, ev a aswonnis an kaswydh dhe vos tewwa ha kolmekka es dell o y semlant. Nyns esa hyns vyth y’n lasneth, ha ny wrussons i mos war-rag yn skon. Pan strivsens I dhe-woeles an dorrlann, i a gavas gover ow frosa diworth an breow a-dhelergha, yn troghva down gans glannow serth ha slynkek ha gordevys gans spedhas. Gans dises meur, ev a droghas yn ewn a-dreus an hyns re dhewissens i. Ny allsens i po lamma dresto po y dreusi vytholl heb dos ha bos glyb, krevys, ha leysek. I a hedhas hag omdybi a-dro dhe’n pyth dh’y wul. ‘Kynsa hedh!’ yn-medh Pypyn yn unn vinhwerthin fell.

smile
minhwarth ( masculine noun ) minhwarthow ( plural ) ( ) ( ) ( ) ( )

If you smile, I'll be happy.
Mar kwre'ta minhwerthin, lowen vedhav.

No doubt I now grew very pale;—but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased—and what could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound—much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath—and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly—more vehemently; but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the men—but the noise steadily increased. Oh God! what could I do? I foamed—I raved—I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder—louder—louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God!—no, no! They heard!—they suspected!—they knew!—they were making a mockery of my horror!-this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! and now—again!—hark! louder! louder! louder! louder!
Heb dout, my a dheuth ha bos, lemmyn, fest gwannliwek–mes my a gewsis moy yn freth, ha gans lev ughella. Mes an son a gressyas–ha pandr’a yllis vy y wul? Yth o son isel, undon ha skav, kepar dell wra euryor pan yw maylyes yn koton. My a dhyenas awos fowt a anal–mes na hwath ny’n klewas an sodhogyon. My a gewsis moy snell–moy nerthek; mes an tros a gressyas yn unn besya. My a sevis yn-bann ha disputya a-dro dhe druflennow, ow lev ughel ha’m gwayansow freudhek; mes hwath an tros a gressyas yn unn besya. Prag na wrussons i mos? My a gerdhas a-rag ha war-dhelergh a-dreus an leur, gans kammow poos, kepar dell veuv muskegys gans tybyansow an wer–mes an tros a gressyas yn unn besya. Awos Duw! pandr’a yllis vy y wul? My a ewonas–my a vuskegis–my a vollethis! My a swaysyas an gador may fien vy owth esedha warnedhi, ha’s rathella war estyl an leur, mes an tros a sevis a-ugh oll ha kressya yn unn besya. Ev a dheuth ha bos ughella–ughella–ughella! Ha hwath an wer a gesklappyas yn hegar, ha minwerthin. O possybyl na’n klewsens? Duw Ollgallosek!–na,nag o! I re’n klewsa!–i o gogrysus!–i a wodhya!–yth esens ow kul ges a’m browagh!–hemma a dybis, ha hemma a dybav. Mes neb tra y’n bys o gwell es an galarow ma! Neb tra aral o moy porthadow es an ges ma! Na fella ny yllis vy perthi an minhwarthow fals na! My a omglewas y feu res dhymm skrija po merwel! ha lemmyn–arta!–klewewgh! ughella! ughella! ughella! ughella!

smirk: See 'smile'
smirk: See 'smile'

to smile - to grin - to form a happy friendly expression
minhwerthin [hanow verbel / verb-hanow] [disamstyryans]

cause to smile heudhhe
cause to smile heudhhe

smile
gwen [hanow benow] gwenyow [hanow liesplek] [disamstyryans]

When you smile, I am happy.
Pan vinhwerthydh, lowen ov vy.

When you smile, I'm happy.
Pan vinhwerthydh, lowen ov vy.

THE INFIRMARY The next thing I remember was coughing up blood. I was no longer in the decompression chamber. I couldn’t focus my eyes – and I was so ill that I didn’t give a rat’s arse where I was. Deep, excoriating coughs seized me time and time again – and, time and time again, great gouts of coagulating blood emerged from my throat. Do you know how shitty you feel when you’ve got a stomach upset and you start ‘heaving your heart out’? Multiply that by 50 times. “If these are my actual lungs that I am coughing up,” I wondered, “ how on Earth am I still breathing?” A young nurse was attending me and catching my bloody ejecta in a shiny metal bowl. She showed no sign of disgust. She didn’t ask me to speak. She could see that I was beyond speech. She smiled encouragingly at me and stroked the still- raw scorch marks that she could see on my bare forearm. That was nice. “What evil have they done to you?” she whispered, apparently to herself. There were curtains drawn about my bed. Was that to protect my privacy or to keep prying eyes away? I saw a silhouetted head briefly appear at the side of one curtain. I could not make out the features of the backlit face but I felt sure it was Doctor Ingrid. The silhouette lingered for a few seconds only, long enough to exchange a glance but no words with the nurse attending me. Then it was gone. “You know she saved your life, young fella,” said the nurse, simply. “Tell!” I rasped. (Actually, I meant to say “Tell me!” but the second word did not come.) The nurse looked uncertain about this. Would she get into trouble for telling me what she had seen or heard?
AN VEDHEGVA An nessa tra a allav perthi kov anedhi o pasans goes. Nyns esen na fella y’n chambour diwaskans. Ny yllyn dri ow dewlagas dhe ewn fog – hag yth en mar glav ma na synsyn poynt a’n le mayth esen. Y settya dalghenn warnav, prys ha prys arta, pasow down ha tynn dres eghenn – ha, prys ha prys arta, y teuth dhiworth ow bryansenn klottys meur goesek. A wodhesta dell omglywir kawghek pan eus dhis kleves hwyja ha ty a dhalleth ‘trywa dha golonn yn-mes’? Gwra an omglywyans na bos lieshes gans hanterkans. “Mars esov yn hwir ow pasa ow skevens yn-mes,” a omwovynnis, “ fatell allav hwath anella, re’n jyowl?” Yth esa klavjiores yowynk owth attendya dhymm. Yth esa hi ow kuntell ow dyllans goesek yn bolla lentrus ha metelyek. Ny wovynnas hi orthymm kewsel. Hi a wodhya ow bos dres kows. Ev a vinhwarthas orthymm (rag ow hennertha, dell heveli) ha palva yn jentyl an merkyow goleskans, hwath rughgogh, a allsa gweles war ow ragvregh noeth. Hweg o henna. “Py par droktra re wrussons dhis?” a hwystras hi, dh’y honan yn apert. Yth esa kroglennow tennys oll a-dro dhe’m gweli. Rag gwitha ow frivetter po rag lettya dewlagas an dus erell rag ow gweles? My a welas kylghlinenn penn omdhiskwedhes dhe du unn groglenn. Ny yllyn gweles fismens an fas o golowys a-dhelergh. Byttegyns, sur ov bos ena Doktour Ingrid. Ny daryas an kylghlinenn saw nebes eylennow, hir lowr rag kesjanya golok – mes geryow vyth – gans an klavjiores owth attendya dhymm. Ena, gyllys o. “Ty a woer hi dhe’th sawya, ow sos yowynk,” yn-medh an glavjiores yn sempel. “Lavar!” yn-medhav ynn-unn-ratha. (Yn hwir, my re vynnsa leverel “Lavar dhymm!” mes ny dhothya an nessa ger. Nyns o sur an glavjiores yn y gever. A via dhedhi kudynn mar lavarra dhymm pyth re welsa po pyth re glywsa hi?

Frodo was waiting on the step, smiling, but looking rather tired and worried. He welcomed all the callers, but he had not much more to say than before. His reply to all inquiries was simply this: ‘Mr. Bilbo Baggins has gone away; as far as I know, for good.’ Some of the visitors he invited to come inside, as Bilbo had left ‘messages’ for them.
Yth esa Frodo orth aga gortos war gradh daras a-rag, ow minhwerthin, mes nebes skwith ha prederus. Ev a dhynnerghis orth an wodrigoryon oll, mes ny wrug ev leverel moy es kyns. Y worthyp dhe wovynnow oll o: ‘Mester Bylbo Bagyns yw gyllys; bys vykken dhe’m brys vy.’ Ev a alowas nebes an godrigor a-ji, drefenn Bylbo dhe asa ‘messajys’ ragdha.

smiling grimly
/ yn unn vinhwerthin fell / / /

to smile
minhwerthin

(hkv.) smile
minhwerthin

smile
gwen feminine noun gwenyow plural

**I write this on a warm February afternoon, overlooking Gwithian beach, watching the sea gently stroke the sand. I recognize and honour the wisdom and knowledge of indigenous and aboriginal peoples, who have been stewards of the land for generations and have much to teach us about regenerative practices, and I acknowledge the contribution of lineage holders in Cornish, indigenous and aboriginal cultures that help us connect with the spirit of Kernow** For thousands of years, Mama Kernow and Cornish people have lived in a loving, reciprocal relationship. She rose up out of the sea to give us respite from the endless waves of the vast ocean and has sheltered us from the Atlantic storms. She has fed us and the animals by feeding the plants, who have given themselves to us to sustain us. She has allowed us to dig deep into her for metals that we need, and that we can trade. She has cared for Cornish people, and all life here, like a mother cares for her children. She has given all of herself to us. And without her, we cannot do anything. And for thousands of years, we also played a role in returning the love and care that she shows us. We did our bit to care for our brothers and sisters: the fish, the forests, the animals, the plants, each other. We returned nutrients to her soil for our microbial siblings. We made sure to keep the waters clean and gave her space to breathe. Humans have always been the youngest of the natural family, and so, like rebellious teenagers, we recently have set out on our own, determined to prove our independence. We have liked to think that with materialism and science we could prove that we could do by ourselves. However, that journey, which starts with dependence, and then independence, always ends with coming home, with a waking up to the interdependence that sustains us. That has always sustained us. Even when we disappeared and neglected our role, Mama Kernow carried on feeding and sheltering us. However, this time now represents our homecoming. We are waking up and Mama Kernow is welcoming us back with a warm embrace. She smiles because she always knew we’d come back. She knows that, in fact, with our new found skills and knowledge, we can step up to play a different, more mature role in the household. She is calling on us, both those born here and those drawn here, to regenerate and enhance life. To breathe life back into Kernow, it’s children and places. To honour the spirit of Mama Kernow. So how can we do this, how can we reconnect with Mama Kernow? There are many ways and each is valid. But we could begin by calling her by her right name. “Cornwall” is the name that others have called her behind her back. The suffix, meaning “foreigners” in Anglo-Saxon, is a “wall” that prevents our reaching home. When we call her by her correct name, Kernow, she hears us. We can also speak to her in her language, Kernewek. Sure, she understands English, but that’s not the language of her heart. Mama Kernow gifted us with Kernewek names reflecting the essence of the spirit of each place, and without our connection to the language, we are unable to receive her gift or connect to each place. Thankfully, lineage holders kept this language alive through the generations. Without it, our connection to Mama Kernow might have been lost forever. Our language is just one of many doorways into our cultural heritage, though perhaps a key to unlocking many of them. Our stories, our songs and dances, our celebrations, our history, our buildings and our food, amongst many other things, are also rich seams of connection back to Mama Kernow. By caring for each of these manifestations of our culture, we take care for our paths of connection. We also must play our part in regenerating the soil so that our brothers and sisters, the trees and the plants, can play their role in caring for our mother, and for our other siblings, like the birds and the animals. We must be wary to not tell them how to do their job. They are receiving instructions from Mama Kernow we are not aware of. So, instead, we can simply create the space for them to regenerate, rewild and care for us. We should be careful to not take more land than she gives us. Where we are given land to feed ourselves, we should honour our mother for her gift to us, showing up with gratitude and reciprocity. We should honour the gift of each plant we harvest to eat, and ensure we are gifting nutrients back to the soil in return. And we must also regenerate our community soil. We must recognise we are all children of Mama Kernow, whether born here or drawn here, and we all playing our role, whether we understand it or not, or love it or not, just like the trees. We care for our community soil when we weave connections between us, seek to uncover each other’s unique gifts and find a way for them to be received by the community. We regenerate our communities when we listen to and value what our brothers and sisters are already doing to make where they live a better place, rather than imposing the whims of funders, charities or institutions. We honour our mother when we show up from a place of love that lifts up our fellow family members, rather than from a place of fear, anger and judgement. And the final step in connection is to realise that we are not just children of Mama Kernow, but we are Mama Kernow herself. We are all manifestations of this spirit that is bigger than us. To call ourselves her children is just a manner of speaking, half way between the scientific and the spiritual. How does it change how we show up with each other, and with all the manifestations of Mama Kernow around us, if we recognise our shared nature? What does it mean to come back home?
**Y hwrav vy skrifa hemma dres dohajydh tomm mis-Hwevrer yn unn vires dhe dreth Godhyan ha’n mor ow palva an tewes. Y hwrav vy aswon hag enora godhvos ha furneth tus genesik neb re veu rennyas an dir dres henedhow ha neb a wra kavos meur dhe dhyski dhyn dro-dhe argerdhow dasvewel. Y hwrav vy aswonn rohow an synsysi-linaja yn gonisogethow Kernow ha genesik neb a wra agan gweres dasjunya dhe spyrys Kernow** Dres milyow a vledhen, y hwrug Mama Kernow ha tus Kernow bywa yn karder a gerensa ha kesparthek. Y hwrug hi sevel yn-bann diworth an mor rag ri dhyn hedh diworth mordonnow heb lett an keynvor efan hag agan klesa diworth tewedhow Atlantek. Y hwrug hi bosa an lesyow rag may hyllsen i ri aga honan dhyn ni rag agan sostena. Y hwrug hi agan gasa palas yn town rag kavos alkenyow res hag aga kenwertha. Y hwrug hi gwitha war dus Kernow, ha bewnans oll omma, kepar dell wra mamm gwitha war hy fleghes. Y hwrug hi ri oll anedhi dhyn. Hag hebdhi, ny yllyn gul travyth. Ha dres milvledhynnyow, y hwrussyn ni gwari rann yn attyli an gerensa ha gwith a dhiskwedh hi dhyn. Y hwrussyn gwitha war agan breder ha hwerydh: an puskes, kosow, enevales, ha’n lesyow. Y hwrussyn ri tre megyans dhedhi rag agan kesfleghes korrbryvek. Y hwrussyn gwitha glan an dowr ha ri spas dhedhi rag hwytha. Re beu tus yowynkka an deylu naturek, hag ytho, kepar dell wra degowogyon trehwelek, a-gynsow y hwrussyn ni ervira mos a-ves war agan honan, krev an mynnas previ agan anserghogeth. Da re beu genen prederi y hyllyn gul genen ni agan honan dre wodhonieth ha materialism. Byttegyns, an vyaj na, hag a wra dalleth gans serghogeth, ha wosa anserghogeth, a wra gorfenna pupprys gans dehweles tre yn unn dhifuna dhe’n kesserghogeth hag a wra agan sostena oll; hag a wrussa agan sostena pupprys. Kyn hwrussyn ni dispresya agan rann, y hwrug Mama Kernow pesya agan bosa ha klesa. Byttegyns, an termyn ma a represent agan dehwelans. Y hwren ni omdhifuna hag yma Mama Kernow orth agan dynnerghi gans byrlans tomm. Y hwra hi minhwarth rag hi dhe wodhvos pupprys y hwrussen ni dehweles. Yn hwir, y hwra hi godhvos y hyllyn ni gul pas yn-rag dhe wari rann diffrans ha moy adhves y’n teylu gans agan skiens nowydh. Y hwra pysi orthyn, an re genys ha’n re tennys omma, a dhasvewa ha gwellhe bywnans. Y hwra hi agan pysi hwytha bywnans yn Kernow, hy fleghes ha tylleryow. Rag enora spyrys Mama Kernow. Ytho, fatell yllyn ni gul hemma, fatell yllyn ni dasjunya gans Mama Kernow? Yma lies fordh, hag oll yw ewn. Mes y hyllyn ni dalleth gans hy henwel hanow ewn. Cornwall yw hanow hag a wrug tus erell hy henwel a-dryv dhe hy heyn. An lostelven, hag a wra styrya “moryon” yn Sowsnek, a wra agan hedhi drehedhes tre. Pan wren ni hy henwel gans hanow ewn, Kernow, y hwra hi agan klywes. Ynwedh, y hyllyn ni kewsel dhedhi yn hy yeth, Kernewek. Y hwra hi konvedhes Sowsnek yn sur, mes nyns yw henna yeth hy holonn. Y hwrug Mama Kernow ri dhyn henwyn tyller Kernewek kelmys dhe essen an spyrys a bub dyller, ha, heb kevrenn dhe’n yeth, ny yllyn ni degemeres hy ro po junya orth an leow ma. Yn grasek, y hwrug synsysi-linaja gwitha war vywnans agan yeth dres an henedhow. Hebdho, martesen y hallsa bos kellys agan kevrenn dhe Mama Kernow bys vykken. Mes agan yeth yw onan yn mysk lies daras dhe agan ertach gonisogethel, kynth yw martesen alhwedh dhe lies anedha. Yth yw agan hwedhlow, agan kanow ha donsyow, agan solempnyansow, agan istori, agan drehevyans hag agan boos, yn mysk taklow erell, gwythiennow rych rag junya gans Mama Kernow. Pan wren ni gwitha war an re ma, y hwren ni gwitha war an lerghow dh’agan Mama. Res yw dhyn gwari agan rann a dhasvewhe an gweres may hyll agan breder ha hwerydh, an gwedh ha’n lesyow, gwari aga rann a witha war agan mamm ha’gan kesfleghes, an ydhyn ha’n enevales. Res yw dhyn bos war sevel orth leverel dhedha fatell godh dhedha oberi. I a dhegemmer dyskansow a Mama Kernow ankoth dhyn. A-der henna, yn sempel y hyllyn ni gul spas may hyllons dasvewa, daswylshe ha gwitha warnan. Y tal dhyn bos war na gemeryn moy a dir es yw res dhyn. Le may hwrug hi ri dhyn tyller rag agan bosa, y kodh dhyn enora agan mamm rag an ro ma, hag omdhiskwedhes gans gras ha kesparthekter. Y kodh dhyn enora an ro a bub les kuntelys ragon, ha surhe y hwren ni ri sostenans dhe’n gweres ynwedh. Ha res yw dhyn dasvewhe gweres agan kemenethow ynwedh. Res yw dhyn aswon agan bos oll fleghes Mama Kernow, genys omma po tennys omma, hag y hwren oll gwari agan rann, pypynag y hwren y gonvedhes po y gara. Y hwren ni gwitha war gweres agan kemeneth pan wren ni gwia kevrennow yntredhon ha hwilas roasow kudhys ha fordhow may hyllons bos degemerys gans an gemeneth. Y hwren ni dasvewhe agan kemenethow pan wren goslowes ha ri bri dhe’n pyth a wra agan breder ha hwerydh rag gwellhe an le mayth yns trigys, yn le beghya hwansow arghasoryon, alusennow ha fondyansow. Y hwren enora agan mamm pan wren ni omdhiskwedhes yn spas a gerensa hag a wra lyftya eseli agan teylu, yn le spas a own, sorr ha breus. Ha’n rann diwettha yn gwrians an gevren yw aswonn nag on ni yn unnik fleghes Mama Kernow, mes yth on ni Mama Kernow hy honan ynwedh. Yth on ni heweledhow an spyrys ma hag yw brassa esson. Agan henwel hy fleghes yw maner a gows ynter an skiansek ha’n spyrysek. Fatell wra treylya an fordh hag ynno y hwren ni kevren gans tus erell, ha gans oll heweledhow Mama Kernow a-dro dhyn, mar kwren ni aswonn agan gnas kevrynnys. Ha pandr’a wra styrya dhe dhehweles tre?

smile
/ minhwerthin / / /

That was Gandalf’s mark, of course, and the old man was Gandalf the Wizard, whose fame in the Shire was due mainly to his skill with fires, smokes, and lights. His real business was far more difficult and dangerous, but the Shire-folk knew nothing about it. To them he was just one of the ‘attractions’ at the Party. Hence the excitement of the hobbit-children. ‘G for Grand!’ they shouted, and the old man smiled. They knew him by sight, though he only appeared in Hobbiton occasionally and never stopped long; but neither they nor any but the oldest of their elders had seen one of his firework displays - they now belonged to the legendary past.
Henn o merk Gandalf, ha’n gour koth o Gandalf an pystrier, y gerda y’n Shayr a-dheuth dre vras a-dhiworth y sleyneth gans tanyow, mog, ha golowys. Y negys gwir o kalessa ha peryllussa yn feur, mes ny wrug pobel an Shayr godhvos travyth yn y gever. Yn aga breus nyns o ev moy es gwrythyer dhe’n kevywi. Henn o an skila rag gwaytyans fleghes an Shayr. ‘G rag Gwella!’ i a armas ha’n gour koth a vinhwarthas. I a’y aswonni yn es, kyn nag esa ev yn Hobyton marnas treweythyow ha nevra ny wrug ev godriga dre dermyn hir; mes nag an fleghes na den arall marnas an kottha a’ga hendus re welsa onan a’y dhispletyansow-tanweyth – i o rann a dermyn esa passys henhwedhlek.

smile
/ minhwarth / n.m /

When you smile, I'm happy.
Lowen ov vy pan vinhwerthydh.

I'm the urban spaceman, baby; I've got speed I've got everything I need I'm the urban spaceman, baby; I can fly I'm a supersonic guy I don't need pleasure I don't feel pain If you were to knock me down I'd just get up again I'm the urban spaceman, baby; I'm makin' out I'm all about I wake up every morning with a smile upon my face My natural exuberance spills out all over the place I'm the urban spaceman, I'm intelligent and clean Know what I mean? I'm the urban spaceman, as a lover second to none It's a lot of fun I never let my friends down I've never made a boob I'm a glossy magazine, an advert in the tube I'm the urban spaceman, baby; here comes the twist I don't exist
Stervarner trevel ov vy, melder; tooth yw dhymm Puptra a-res yw dhymm Stervarner trevel ov vy, melder; neyjor ov Den gorsonek ov Nyns yw res dhymm plesour Ny omglewav vy payn mann Mara'm knoukydh war an dor, y sevav arta yn-bann Stervarner trevel ov vy, melder; y synsav an pyth a vo Yth esov oll a-dro Y tifunav vy pub myttin gans minhwerthin yn y le Ow lowender genesik a wra skollya 'dro dhe'n dre Stervarner trevel ov vy, melder, skentel ov ha glan A wodhydh an dra? Stervarner trevel ov vy, melder, karer ov heb par Heudh ov heb mar Ny draytav vy orth koweth Ha nevra ny wrav vy kamm Lyver-termyn liwek ov, yth ov argemmynn splann Stervarner trevel ov vy, melder: Ottomma kildro lann Nyns ov vy mann

smile
minhwerthin

Gildor smiled. ‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘Twice. He said farewell to us on this very spot. But I saw him once again, far from here.’ He would say no more about Bilbo, and Frodo fell silent.
Gyldor a vinhwarthas. ‘Ya,’ ev a worthybis. ‘Diwweyth. Ev a leveris farwel dhyn dhe’n le ma yn poran. Mes my a’n welas arta, yn le pell diworth omma.’ Ny lavarsa ev moy yn kever Bylbo, ha Frodo a dheuth ha bos taw.

smile
/ minhwerthin / / verb-hanow /