to blindfold oor Kornies

to blindfold

Vertalings in die woordeboek Engels - Kornies

dallgudha

voorbeelde

to blindfold
/ dallgudha / / /

THE FIRST LECTURE ‘For the Yanks are coming, the Yanks are coming, ...’ That old patriotic anthem from World War Two rolled about in my head as I sat in a cell beside my brother. I even started to sing it but David glared at me – he never did like to hear me singing. (Nobody does!) So, just as I had heard, there were foreign troops on the way to reinforce the local effort. What this meant, of course, was that the ‘war’ against the zombie menace was by no means over. And, if you thought about it, that was no surprise. As I had speculated at the time of the battle at Melbourne University, a primary area of 400,000 square kilometres had been taken over by the zombies – and outbreaks were occurring all the time beyond that zone. So, despite the fact that thousands of zombies had been machine-gunned and napalmed at the university, there were hundreds of thousands of them still roaming the countryside – and they, in their turn, were still actively ‘conscripting’ yet more to the cause (whatever that might be). And, as a result, David and I were to be used to show these fresh-faced doughboys what a zombie looked like. I was to be the ‘before’ image and David was to be the ‘after’ – like in one of those old comic-book advertisements for body-building equipment. Was I ‘Skinny John’? Would I have sand kicked in my face? Probably not. I guessed we had been taken to Puckapunyal, the largest army base in Victoria. It was in Central Victoria, two or three hours by army truck from Castlemaine. So, the interminable journey in the paddy wagon fitted with that geography (once corrected for time distortion due to blindfolding.) If my guess on our location were correct – and this would be a logical place to train foreign soldiers in Australian conditions, away from the primary zone of infection – that was good news. Once again, my cadet training would come in handy.
AN KYNSA ARETH “Rag y teu an yankis, y teu an yankis ...” An antemna koth na, meur y wlaskerensa, a dheuth dhiworth oes an Nessa Bresel an Bys, a rolyas a-dro dhe’m ympynnyon ha my esedhys ryb ow broder yn bagh. My a dhallathas hogen y gana mes Davydh a lagattas heb hedhi orthymm – ny garas nevra klywes ow henys. (Denvyth ny’n kar!) Ytho, ow nowodhow re via ewn, yth esa soudoryon estrenyek ow tos rag krevhe stryvyans a’n tyller. Hemm a styrya, heb mar, nag o gorfennys vyth an ‘bresel’ erbynn godros an zombis. Ha, mar prederres yn y gever, ny via henna marth. Kepar dell dhesevsen dres termyn batel an bennskol Melbourne, yth esa chyf arenebedh ogas dhe 400,000 km pedrek lemmyn kontrolyes gans an zombis – hag yth esa pup-prys tardhow nowydh ow hwarvos dres an arenebedh na. Ytho, yn despit dhe vernansow a vilyow an zombis – dre jynn-sethow ha napalm – dhe’n bennskol, yth esa hwath kansow a vilyow anedha ow kwandra a-dro dhe bowdir – hag yth esens i, an eyl wosa y gila, ow ‘hesskrifa’, tan meur y’ga holonnow, moy a dus hogen dhe’n movyans (pypynag o henna). Hag ytho y feu Davydh ha my bos diskwedhys, avel mir gwir an zombis, dhe’n ‘dowbois’ ma (henn yw leverel, soudoryon amerikanek), pur fresk aga fismens. Yth en an imaj ‘kyns’ ha Davydh o an imaj ‘wosa’ – kepar ha’n argemmynnow- kommyk koth esa ow mynnes gwertha daffar rag krevhe an korf. A vien ‘Yowann kroenek’? A via tewes potyes y’m fas? Nyns o hemma gwirhaval. My a dhesevas agan bos kemmerys dhe Pukkapunyal, an brassa selva yn Budhykka. Kres Budhykka o vyaj a dhew po tri our dhiworth Kastlemayne dre gert-lu. Ytho, yth heveli bos an termyn ewn rag agan vyaj heb diwedh y’n kertik. (Wosa ewnans rag kammans a dermyn drefenn ow dewlagas dhe vos kudhys.) Mars esa ewn ow thybyans a-dro dh’agan le – nowodhow da o henna. Ha, wosa oll, Pukkapunyal a via tyller herwydh reson rag trenyans soudoryon estrenyek ow kul devnydh a gondysyons Ostralek – mes pellder lowr dhiworth chyf arenebedh an klevesans. Unnweyth arta, ow threnyans avel souder-brentys a allsa bos dhe-les.

The doors swung open and the ‘red carpet’ took the form of being dragged roughly from the rear of the paddy-wagon and being dropped onto the tarmac of the roadway. (Oh, goody, just what I needed: some more deep bruising to my upper body!) David was treated likewise but I don’t think he got bruised – as I’ve said already, his skin sort of ‘tears’ if you apply enough force but you can patch the tears, as I had done in the crypt. Apparently, the Captain who had captured (and spared) us wanted to present his still-bound, still-blindfolded prizes to his commander. As best I can recall, the exchange went like this: Commander: “What have we got here, Captain?” Captain: “A zombie and his non-zombie brother, sir.” Commander: “They both seem still to be moving, Captain. Have you put a bullet in the zombie’s brain yet?” Captain: “No, sir.” Commander: “Bugger it, man, why on Earth not? Best thing for a zombie is a bullet in the brain. Can’t risk having one bite any of the officers, can we?” Captain: “Of course not, sir. But we could do with one or two for training purposes, Commander. After all, we have a thousand yank soldiers due to come through here in the next few days. And, none of them has ever even seen a zombie, sir. We don’t want them mistaking any of the living locals for the enemy, do we, sir?” (There was a pause, apparently while the commander absorbed this logic.) Commander: “Very well. But what about the other chap, the one who isn’t a zombie. Has he been bitten?”
Y leskas ledan apert an darasow ha’gan ‘leurlenn rudh’ o y’n furv a dhraylyans garow dhiworth delergh an kertik ha droppyans war darmak an fordh. (Ass o henna da. An dra esa edhomm ewn dhymm: moy a vrywyon down dhe’m korf ughella!) Davydh a veu dyghtyes yn kepar maner mes nyns esa bryw vyth dhodho – dell leveris seulabrys, y groghen a wra skwardya nebes mars eus fors lowr gorrys dhedhi. Byttegyns, y hyllir kloutya an groghen, dell wrussen vy y’n gleudhgell. Yn apert, yth esa an Kapten (re wrussa agan kachya - ha re wrussa agan sparya) ow mynnes diskwedhes y biwasow, hwath kelmys ha gorherys aga dewlagas, dh’y gaslywydh. Dell grysav, hemm yw an keskows a sywas – po neppyth haval dhodho: Kaslywydh: “Pyth yw henna, a Gapten?” Kapten: “Zombi, Syrr – ha’y vroder nag yw zombi.” Kaslywydh: “Yth hevel bos an dhew hwath ow kwaya, a Gapten. Eus pellenn yn ympynnyon an zombi hwath?” Kapten: “Nag eus, Syrr.” Kaslywydh: “Buggra, ‘was! A-barth an nev, prag na? An gwella tra rag zombi yw pellenn yn y ympynnyon. Ny yllir kemmeres chons nebonan yntra’n soedhogyon dhe vos brethys, a ny yllir? Kapten: “Na, Syrr. Ny yllir. Byttegyns, ni a allsa gul devnydh a onan po dew anedha rag agan trenyans, a Gaslywydh. Wosa oll, y fydh mil souder yanki ow tos der omma yn nebes dydhyow – ha nyns eus denvyth yntredha re welas zombi kyns, Syrr. Ny vynnyn i dhe gul kammgemmeryansow pan welvydhons, y’n kynsa prys, an eskar. Res yw dhyn konsydra an dus ow bywa.” (Yth esa powes. Yth esa an kaslywydh ow prederi a-dro dhe’n reson ma, dell heveli.) Kaslywydh: “Pur dha. Byttygens, pyth a vynnydh gul gans an gwas arall, an huni nag yw zombi? Brethys yw ev?”

David didn’t “come quietly” – but he did come. The cattle-prod is a remarkably effective tool of persuasion, even on a zombie. Once again, we were blindfolded. Why I cannot say. Perhaps they didn’t want us getting familiar with the layout of the place. Perhaps they wanted to calm David down – though the cattle-prod had done a terrific job of revving him up. It’s amazing what 10,000 volts will do to even dead flesh. Soon enough, David and I found ourselves on stage in a large meeting hall. A lecture had apparently already commenced and we could hear the Captain’s voice droning on and on. He obviously enjoyed the sound of his own voice but I could not be so sure of the audience. Our blindfolds were removed and a curtain was raised to reveal all. David roared as if on cue and the hundreds of fresh-faced Yankee soldiers gasped as one. Pure theatre. I looked towards the Captain, standing at the microphone. He was in Seventh Heaven. I didn’t begrudge him his petty pleasure (not that one, anyway). After all, I was still alive and he held power of life and death over me and David. The audience resumed breathing. The lecture continued. Damn this man was boring! Over and over again he repeated the same broad observations concerning the appearance of zombies: grey skin colour, dull eyes, unkempt appearance, enlarged lips, ... Really basic stuff that any member of the audience could observe for himself within a matter of seconds. Did this man not have any insights of his own to offer? Evidently not. Still, this was hardly surprising. How long had he actually spent observing zombies and how many had he observed? Answers: not very long and probably only one. So, what made him think he was qualified to give a lecture to the troops on zombies?
Ny wrug Davydh dos yn kosel – mes ev a wrug dos, wosa oll. Pok-jatel yw toul effeythys marthusek rag perswadya – rag perswadya zombi hogen. Unweyth arta, kudhys o agan dewlagas. An acheson? Ny yllyn leverel. Martesen, ny vynnens agan aswonn fas an pow. Martesen y fynnens koselhe Davydh – kyn hwrussa an pok-jatel oberenn pur splann rag y amovya. Marthys yw dell wra 10,000 volt dhe gig marow hogen. Skon lowr, Davydh ha my omgavas war warila yn hel-guntellyans vras. An areth re dhallathsa seulabrys yn apert ha ni a ylli klywes lev an Kapten a sadronenni heb lett. Da o gans Kapten y lev, dell heveli, mes ny yllyn bos mar sur a-dro dhe’n woslowysi. Nebonan a gemmeras dhe-ves pyth re gorhersa agan dewlagas ha y feu drehevys kroghlenn rag diskwedhes oll. Davydh a vedhyglas, kepar ha pan eus lostlavar, hag y tyenas kansow souder Yanki warbarth. Hwarvos gwaridi pur. My a viras troha’n Kapten, a’y sav orth an mikrogowser, meur y dransyek. Lowen lowr en vy bos dhodho y vannblesour – an huni na, yn neb kas. Wosa oll, hwath byw en vy hag yth esa ev ow synsi hwath galloes a-dro dhe’m bywnans po mernans. (Ha galloes a-dro dhe dhistruyans Dhavydh keffrys.) An woslowysi a dhasdhallathas anella. Yth esa an areth ow pesya. Molleth Dyw! An gour o annius! Heb hedhi, ev a dhasleveri an keth notyansow ledan a-dro dhe semlans an zombis: kroghen, loes hy liw, dewlagas dysliw, dillas ankempenn, diwweus vras, ... Traow a via apert yn hwir dhe oll an woslowysi, traow a yllens merkya aga honan wosa nebes eylennow. A nag esa travyth y’n skians arbennik an gour ma? Skians a ylli offra dhe’n woslowysi? Yth heveli nag o hemma an kas. Byttele, nyns o hemma marthys vyth. Dres py termyn re spensa yn hwir y’n observyans an zombis ha pygemmys anedha re observsa? Gorthybow: nyns o termyn hir ha, martesen, mann saw onan. Ytho, pyth esa dhodho dhe grysi y vos gwiw rag ri areth dhe’n soudoryon a-dro dhe’n zombis?

CHAPTER 19 WHY THE CAPTAIN WANTED A ZOMBIE Good news: neither David nor I received an immediate bullet to the brain. Bad news: both of us were blindfolded, bundled into the back of a military paddy-wagon and found ourselves bumping along a rural highway for a very, very long time. (Or did it just seem that way?) The paddy-wagon was roughly sprung to the point where I felt every pothole, every bump and undulation on that roadway – and there were many. My hands and feet were bound securely and so it was difficult to remain sitting upright. I couldn’t be sure what David was doing – other than roaring and moaning at irregular intervals. “Shut up, Dave!” I screamed – to no obvious effect. And the back of the paddy-wagon smelt distinctly of urine and vomit – both sharp and sour. My guess was that its usual occupants were soldiers who had had a big night on the town and needed some ‘assistance’ getting back to their base. When you close your eyes, travel time becomes distorted. I know of this from empirical research. What sort of research, you ask? Good question: try closing your eyes on the way home from work – whether travelling by train, tram or bus – and only open them when you think you have arrived at your train/tram/bus stop. Go on, try it. I guarantee you’ll always re-open your eyes long before you get near your accustomed stop (unless, of course, you fall asleep). On this particular occasion, of course, I was blindfolded and had no idea of how long the trip actually took. So, I believed the trip was actually many hours longer than it really was. Does that make sense? No matter, it’s just another digression. In any event, the paddy-wagon eventually came to a juddering halt – but not before I was physically spent from the effort of remaining upright whilst bound hand and foot.
AN ACHESON MAY FYNNA AN KAPTEN ZOMBI. Nowodhow da: ny dhegemmersa na Davydh na my, a-dhistowgh yn neb kas, pellenn dh’agan ympynnyon. Nowodhow drog: yth esa, agan dew, maylyes agan dewlagas ha tewlys y’n delergh kertik breselek. Ni a omgavas bos ow ponkya a-hys fordh bowel dres termyn hir, termyn hir dres eghenn. (Po, esa owth heveli bos yndellna?) Yth o tergh an kertik pur gales. My a ylli omglywes pub toll ha pub boemm ha pub tonn dhiworth an fordh na, meur aga niver. Kelmys fast o’m diwla ha’m dewdroes mayth o kales dhe driga owth esedha syth. Ny yllyn bos sur pyth esa Davydh ow kul – a-der bedhygla ha hanasa hepken, yn treweythyus. “Gas dha son, ‘Dhav!” a skrijis vy – heb effeyth apert vyth. Yth esa fler drog yn delergh an kertik, fler a urin, fler a hwyj – tynn ha trenk. Dell heveli, tremenysi an kertik, herwydh usadow, o soudoryon wosa ‘nos vras’ y’n tre ha mayth esa dhedha edhomm a ‘weres’ rag dehweles dhe’n selva. Pan dhegeydh dha dhewlagas, y teuth ha bos omgemmys termyn lavuryans. Sur a hemma a allav bos anodho drefenn ow hwithrans empirek. Py par a hwithrans, a wovynnydh? Govynn da. Gwra assaya dhe dhegea dha dhewlagas ha ty ow lavurya dhe-dre dhiworth dha soedh – yn tren, yn stret-karr po yn kyttrin. Ha na wra assaya aga dasigeri marnas pan grysydh dha neshe orth dha orsav dha honan. Dhe wir, assay an dra. My a ambos orthis ty dhe dhasigeri dha dhewlagas pup- prys termyn hir kyns es ty dhe dhrehedhes an orsav herwydh dha usadow (marnas ty a goedh yn kosk, heb mar.) Y’n prys ma, maylyes ow dewlagas, nyns esa dhymm tybyans vyth a-dro dhe bellder gwir an vyaj. Ytho, my a grysi bos an vyaj lies our hirra es dell o yn hwir. Eus reson rag an lavar ma? Na. Ny vern, nyns yw travyth a-der gwandrans arall. Yn neb kas, wostiwedh, y teuth vyaj an kertik dhe dhiwedh ow krena – mes ny hwarva henna kyns ow bos spenys yn tien y’m korf drefenn ow assayans dhe driga a’m sav, kelmys ow diwla ha’m dewdroes.