the shower oor Kornies

the shower

Vertalings in die woordeboek Engels - Kornies

an gowas

voorbeelde

the shower
/ an gowas / / /

where is the shower?
ple'ma an gowas?

Even if you’ve never spoken a word of Cornish before and the only place you usually sing is in the shower, please get involved – we need you!
Mar ny gewssowgh bythkweth kyns ger a Gernewek hogen ha'n tyller unnik may kenowgh yw an kowas, omvyskewgh mar pleg - yma edhom dhyn ahanowgh!

there is a shower in the bathroom
yma kowas y'n stevel-omwolghi

The toilet has a walk-in shower.
Yma kowas gerdhes-a-ji dhe'n stevel omwolghi.

The bathroom has a walk-in shower.
Yma kowas kerdhes-a-ji dhe'n stevel-omwolghi.

The rain, the rain Falling without pause There's a man in a wclay work In such a deep dream; In his mind a view of his boy Likewise a view of his girl Sleeping in the house Without anxiety, without fear White clay, white clay His clothes are bespattered From the work so rough So wet and so heavy; He will carry on In his cursed work Limbs dead tired Through the long grey months At home at the hearth A young wife baking Economical, industrious by nature; In sickness, in health Protecting her children Hard her life And without great hope The rain, the rain Showers without respite And the clay of his work shovel Is heavy with water; His work is safe From the people at the gate Seeking his wages every day And every hour At home at the hearth A young wife baking Economical, industrious by nature In sickness, in health Protecting her children Rough her life And without great hope So easy, very easy It is to look backwards To past ages At the history of the country; Would it be of any use To retread the footsteps Footprints born In the country's history?
An glaw, an glaw Ow koedha heb powes; Yma den yn poll pri Yn hunros mar dhown; Yn y vrys gwel y vaw Keffrys gwel y vowes Ow koska y'n chi Heb preder, heb own Pri gwyn, pri gwyn Y dhillas yw keglys A'n gonis mar arow Mar lyb ha mar boes; Pesya a vynn Yn y ober milligys Eseli skwith marow Dre'n misyow hir loes Dhe-dre orth an oeles Gwreg yowynk ow pobas Benyn erbysek, diwysek dre nas; Yn kleves, yn yeghes Ow kwitha hy fleghes, Kales hy bwynans Ha heb gwaytyans bras An glaw, an glaw Kowasow heb lett Ha pri y bal-ober Yw poes gans an dowr; Y ober yw saw Orth an dus ryb an yet Ow hwilas y wober Pub dydh, pub our Dhe-dre orth an oeles Gwreg yowynk ow pobas Benyn erbysek, diwysek dre nas; Yn kleves, yn yeghes Ow kwitha hy fleghes, Garow hy bwynans Ha heb gwaytyans bras Mar es, pur es Yw mires war-dhelergh Orth oesow tremenys Orth istori an vro A via dhe les Dasrosya an troe'lergh Olyow treys genys Yn istori an vro?

As they looked out of the window there came falling gently as if it was flowing down the rain out of the sky, the clear voice of Goldberry singing up above them. They could hear few words, but it seemed plain to them that the song was a rain-song, as sweet as showers on dry hills, that told the tale of a river from the spring in the highlands to the Sea far below. The hobbits listened with delight; and Frodo was glad in his heart, and blessed the kindly weather, because it delayed them from departing. The thought of going had been heavy upon him from the moment he awoke; but he guessed now that they would not go further that day.
Dell wrussons i mires mes a’n fenester, y teuth lev kler Goldberri, ow koedha yn fedhel haval ev dhe frosa gans an glaw mes a’n ebrenn. Yth esa hi ow kana a-ughta. Ny allsons i klywes marnas nebes geryow, mes apert o dhedha henna dhe vos kan-glaw, mar hweg ha kowasow war breow sygh. Yth esa hwedhel dhedhi yn kever avon, ow talleth orth fenten y’n ugheldiryow ha frosa dhe’n mor dhe-woeles pell. An hobytow a woslowas gans delit; ha kolonn Frodo o lowen, hag ev a vennigas orth an gewer guv, drefenn hi dh’aga lettya gasa. Tybyans mos re bia poes warnodho a-ban dhifunas ev; mes ev a dhismygas na wrussens i mos pella y’n jydh na.

Anyway, this meant the first item on the agenda in the morning after the battle (was it a ‘battle’, really?) was to clean ourselves up – just as, it seemed, Paul and Charles had been doing whilst holed up here. There were a couple of buckets now parked near the tap – and a watering can. I guessed that the buckets had been placed there by the keepers of the crypt but the watering can? Maybe Paul and Charles had swiped it from somewhere else in the cemetery grounds. A small mystery – too small to worry about. I brandished the watering can in David’s general direction: “Shower, Mate?” Barely a grunt. “Come on, Mate,” I said. “You could be a world record holder: the first zombie to take a shower.” No grunt at all. It seemed that zombies were not keen on personal hygiene – and David stank very badly. His clothes, his hair and his face were all caked with coagulated human blood and gore. I advised him ‘the beautiful people’ were not wearing blood and gore this season but still he seemed unmoved. David had never actually been a fashionisto – and now he was, well, dead, such matters seemed to mean even less to him. How would I get this stinking bugger to wash? I decided to set an example and stripped off my own disreputable gear. For the first time, I had a chance to look at my own state. I, too, was covered in filth of various kinds. I suppose that, by living in close contact with not only David but other zombies, I had picked up a lot of filth that they were carrying – even though I was largely unaware of it at the time. I decided to go naked until I had washed and dried my clothes. To keep warm, I could wrap myself in the blankets that Paul and Charles had left behind. Where had they managed to get the blankets? From their raid upon the gate-keeper’s residence, I supposed. No matter. The blankets were welcome wherever they had come from.
Yn neb kas, an myttin wosa an vatel (o hi batel wir?), yth o an kynsa tra herwydh an rol negys: res o dhyn omglanhe - kepar dell wrussa Powl ha Charles hag i trigys ena. Yth esa ynwedh dew gelorn parkyes ogas dhe’n tapp – ha kafas dowr keffrys. My a dhesevos an kelern dhe worra ena gans gwithoryon an gleudhgell mes an kafas dowr? Martesen, Powl ha Charles re’n ladersa nep-tu arall y’n park ynkleudhva. Kevrin byghan – re vyghan bos preder dhymm. My a boyntyas an kafas dowr troha Davydh: “Kowas, ‘Vata?” Namna wrug ev rogh. “Deun yn rag, ‘Vata,” yn-medhav. “Y hallses jy dos ha bos kampyer rekord an bys: an kynsa zombi dhe gavoes kowas.” Rogh vyth. Yth heveli na vos an zombis yntanys a-dro dhe lanydhter personel – hag yth esa fler tynn dhe Dhavydh. Y dhillas, y vlew ha’y fas, oll anedha a via kalashes gans goes kowlys ha keher denel. My a leveris orto na wiska ‘an dus fethus’ yn goes ha keher an seson ma mes, hwath, yth heveli y vos anwayys. Yn hwir, ny via Davydh ‘fashionisto’ (den herwydh an gis) – ha, lemmyn y vos, wel, marow, yth heveli materow a’n par na dhe styrya le hogen dhodho. Ytho, fatell yllyn vy gul omwolghi an horsen flerys ma? My a erviras omdhiskwedhes avel ensampel hag omdhiwiska – drefenn bos ow dhillas ow honan poran drog-gerys. Hemm o an kynsa chons dhymm dhe vires orth ow studh ow honan. Gorherys yn lastedhes a lies eghenn en vy ynwedh. My a grys, dre vywnans ogas dhe Dhavydh ha’y sos, my a gevrennsa meur a’n lastedhes esens ow toen – kyn nag y arwodhyen, dre vras, y’n tor’ na. My a erviras triga noeth erna wolghsen ow dillas ha’y sygha. Rag omwitha toemm, my a ylli omvaylya y’n lennow re assa a-dhelergh Powl ha Charles. Dhiworth py le re dhothya an lennow ma? Dhiworth omsettyans a Bowl ha Charles war ji an porther, dell grysav. Ny vern. Pur wolkomm ens i dhiworth plepynag re dhothyens.

There were rockets like a flight of scintillating birds singing with sweet voices. There were green trees with trunks of dark smoke: their leaves opened like a whole spring unfolding in a moment, and their shining branches dropped glowing flowers down upon the astonished hobbits, disappearing with a sweet scent just before they touched their upturned faces. There were fountains of butterflies that flew glittering into the trees; there were pillars of coloured fires that rose and turned into eagles, or sailing ships, or a phalanx of flying swans; there was a red thunderstorm and a shower of yellow rain; there was a forest of silver spears that sprang suddenly into the air with a yell like an embattled army, and came down again into the Water with a hiss like a hundred hot snakes. And there was also one last surprise, in honour of Bilbo, and it startled the hobbits exceedingly, as Gandalf intended. The lights went out. A great smoke went up. It shaped itself like a mountain seen in the distance, and began to glow at the summit. It spouted green and scarlet flames. Out flew a red-golden dragon - not life-size, but terribly life-like: fire came from his jaws, his eyes glared down; there was a roar, and he whizzed three times over the heads of the crowd. They all ducked, and many fell flat on their faces. The dragon passed like an express train, turned a somersault, and burst over Bywater with a deafening explosion.
Yth esa roketyow haval orth hes a ydhyn ow sterenni hag ow kana gans lev hweg. Yth esa gwydh gwyrdh gans korfow a vog tewl: aga del a igeri haval orth oll a wenton ow tisplegya yn prys berr, ha’ga skorennow splann a dhroppyas bleujennow owth isleski war an hobatyow stegys gans marth, hag eth mes a wel ow kasa fler hweg kyns tava aga enebow treylys yn-bann. Yth esa fentenyow a dykki-duw a nijas ow tewynnya y’n gwydh; yth esa peulyow a dan liwys a sevi ha treyla yn eryon, po skathow ow koelya, po seth a elergh ow nija; yth esa tewedh rudh ha kowas a law melyn; yth esa koes a guwow arghansek a lammas y’n ayr distowgh gans garm haval orth lu, ha droppya arta y’n dowr gans si haval orth kans sarf poeth. Yth esa unn marth dhe’n diwedh a-barth Bylbo a amovyas an hobatyow dres eghenn, herwydh hwans Gandalf. Difeudhys veu an golowys. Mog bras a sevis. Ev a wrug furv a venydh a veu gwelys a bell, hag a dhallathas isleski a-wartha. Ev a bistyllas flammow gwyrdh ha kogh. Yn mes diworto a nijas dragon rudh hag owrek, nyns o ev mar vras ha dragon gwir mes y semlant o nes dhe wirvos: tan a dheuth diworth y anow, y dhewlagas a viras war-nans yn fell; yth esa bedhygel, hag ev a fistenas triweyth a-ugh pennow an bush. Oll anedha a blattyas, nebes anedha a goedhas dhe’n leur. An dhragon a dremenas haval orth tren, a gryghlamma, hag a dardha a-ugh Baywoter gans tardh a’ga bodharhas.

I had not had a cold shower for years. I had not had a shower of any description since Day One. David wasn’t the only one who stank. Having filled the watering can, I stood in the corner near the tap – over the small drain – and, lifting the can above my head, played the sprinkling water over my grimy, sweaty and bloody body. I shivered from the shock of the cold water but, almost immediately, felt refreshed and reinvigorated. The muck that was caked on my skin and in my hair fell away – thanks to some fragrant soap that I was using liberally – and that, I presumed, had also been ‘liberated’ from the gatekeeper’s residence. David’s dead eyes observed the cleansing of my body with no obvious emotion. In the back of my mind, I knew that I had to get David cleaned up if ever I were to be able to pass him off as a living soul – and effect an escape from the ‘war- zone’. How much resistance to this would he put up when I insisted on this? Having dried myself – using an equally ‘liberated’ towel – I stood looking at David. He returned the stare. (He was, at least, exceptionally good at that.) “David?” I said. “Your turn now – you’re a very dirty little boy!” He seemed to like being babied by me. Maybe it evoked some distant memory of his childhood, when Mum used to scold us for being such ‘grubs’ (which we were). I can’t be sure, of course, but, in any event, he rose to his feet and approached. He stood in front of me like a small child who could not undo his buttons. (In fact, I think he may have lost so much dexterity that this task was now beyond him.) I started to undo his blood-stained rags and he did not offer a protest. Soon, he stood naked and, like a small child, waited obediently for his bath. I gently bathed his greying skin, patched with tape the odd tear in his flesh that he had suffered as a result of recent carnal activities – and then shed a tear over what had become of my handsome brother.
Ny gemmersen kowas yeyn a-dhia nebes blydhynnyow. Ny gemmersen kowas vyth a-dhia Dydh Onan. Nyns o Davydh an huni unnik gans fler euthyk. Lenwys an kafas dowr, yth esen a’m sav y’n gornell ogas dhe’n tapp – hag a- ugh an sygerva byghan. Ha my drehevys an kafas a-ugh ow fenn, my a skoellyas an dowr ow stifa war ow horf goesek, meur y lastedhes ha’y hwys. Skruth an dowr yeyn a’m gwrug degrena mes, ogas a-dhistowgh, my a omglywo bos refreshyes ha dasnerthys. Y koedhas dhe-ves an most re via kalesys war ow kroghen hag y’m blew – gras dhe nebes sebon, hweg y ethenn, may hwren devnydh meur anodho. An sebon ma re via ‘delivrys’ ynwedh dhiworth chi an porther, dell grysen. Yth esa dewlagas marow Davydh owth attendya glanheans a’m korf, heb movyans vyth apert. Y’n delergh ow brys, my a wodhya bos res dhe Dhavydh bos glanhes mar pe possybyl dhe omwul y vos enev byw – ha diank ‘greugys an vresel’. Pygemmys defens a via dhiworto dh’y gowas pan deris vy? Ow kul devnydh a dowell (‘delivrys’ yn kepar maner), my a omsyghas ha sevel ena ow mires orth Davydh. Ev a settyas y dremmynn warnav. (Ev a ylli, dhe’n lyha, gul henna pur dha.) “’Dhavydh?” yn-medhav. “Dha dro jy yth yw lemmyn – meppik pur blos osta!” Yth heveli bos da ganso pan y’n dyghtyis kepar ha baban. Martesen, y trosa dh’y vrys kov hanter-ankevys a’y flogoleth. Y hwre Mamm agan deraylya drefenn agan bos ‘kontron’ (ha henn o gwir). Ny allav bos sur, heb mar, mes, yn neb kas, ev a sevis yn-bann hag omneshe dhymm. Yth esa a’y sav a-dheragov vy kepar ha flogh byghan na ylli diswul y votonyow. (Yn hwir, possybyl o y kollsa kemmys sleyghneth yn y diwdhorn ma na ylli na fella gul an oberenn ma.) My a dhallathas diswul y bilennow re via nammys yn town gans goes ha nyns esa krodhvol vyth dhiworto ev. Yn skon, ev a sevi noeth a-dheragov ha, kepar ha fleghik, gortos yn unn wostydh rag y dronkys. Yn tov, my a badhyas y groghen loes ha kloutya gans tapa nebes skwardyow yn y geher godhevys a-gynsow drefenn y vywderyow karnal. Ena, my a dhellos dager drefenn tenkys ow broder teg.