to interview oor Kornies

to interview

Vertalings in die woordeboek Engels - Kornies

kesweles

werkwoord

voorbeelde

to interview
kesweles

to interview
kesweles [ verb-hanow / hanow verbel ]

to interview
kesweles ( ) ( ) ( ) ( ) ( ) ( verb )

to interview
/ kesweles / / /

to interview - ll - CONJUGATE WITH MODEL VERB: gweles
kesweles

to interview
kesweles [hanow verbel / verb-hanow] [disamstyryans]

to interview
kesweles verb

We are also looking for volunteers to help us to investigate archives which have not yet been catalogued or to interview those with a knowledge of the early years of the revival.
Yth eson ow hwilas bodhogyon dh’agan gweres hwithra kovskrifennow nag yw menegys na hwath pod he gesweles an re gans godhvos a-dro dhe dhydhyow a-varr an dasserghyans.

Also, if you would like to help do the new interviews, please contact us.
Ynwedh, mar fynnsowgh gweres dhe wul an keswelyow nowydh, kestevewgh orthyn mar pleg.

to see CONJUGATED | PRESENT PARTICIPLE ow kweles PAST PARTICIPLE gwelys INDICATIVE PRESENT/FUTURE gwelav gwelydh gwel gwelyn gwelowgh gwelons IMPERSONAL gwelir INDICATIVE IMPERFECT gwelyn gwelys gweli gwelyn gwelewgh gwelens gwelys INDICATIVE PRETERITE gwelis gwelsys gwelas gwelsyn gwelsowgh gwelsons gwelas INDICATIVE PLUPERFECT gwelsen gwelses gwelsa gwelsen gwelsewgh gwelsens gwelsys SUBJUNCTIVE PRESENT gwelliv gwelli gwello gwellyn gwellowgh gwellons gweller SUBJUNCTIVE IMPERFECT gwellen gwelles gwella gwellen gwellewgh gwellens gwellys IMPERATIVE gwel gweles gwelyn gwelewgh gwelens MUTATIONS 2 wel 3 gwel 4 kwel 5 hwel 5+ wel fyllel gweles > to overlook - skonya gweles > to turn a blind eye dasweles > to review or to revise – gorweles > to oversee or to supervise - kesweles > to interview - kynweles > to preview > omweles > to visit - ragweles > to foresee
gweles

She passed a tablet through the peephole and I took it with some water. It was no mere Aspro – it was something morphine-based and sent me into la-la land for some hours. (I recall dreaming that I was at some dark, smoke-filled dive listening to Muddy Waters strutting his stuff – obviously one of the more pleasant experiences of the day. That music from the Common Room had infiltrated my unconscious mind. This helped further to blot out the pain.) As the opiate started to wear off, and the pain returned, it occurred to me that Ingrid need not have given me such powerful pain relief – or, indeed, any at all. Maybe there was some remorse for the evil which she had actively participated in – and which had caused me the pain in the first place. Or, maybe, there was another motive. I would wait and see. If it were remorse, that was something I could work with. o0o Next day, Ingrid came with the goons and gave orders to have me bound hand and foot and taken to an interview room. David remained in the cell, groaning and moaning. Ingrid and I sat either side of a small wooden table in the airless room. She ordered the guards to wait outside. They did so with neither hesitation nor question. Her outward manner had softened a little but I could not trust her, of course. She had willingly participated in systematic torture only the day before. She had sat calmly and taken notes while I suffered. “What’s on your mind, doctor?” I asked. “We can talk freely here. The Captain is temporarily off the base and there is no recording equipment in this room. We are not being observed.” I shrugged. Where was this going? She continued: “Those things that you said in the lecture theatre the other day, are they true? I need to know this. Are they really slaughtering kids who might recover?” Still bound hand and foot, I leaned forward, looked her in the eye and said with as much conviction as I could muster:
Hi a dremenas pellennik der an toll-wolok ha my a’n kollonkas gans nebes dowr. Nyns o yn sempel Aspro – neppyth selys war goskles o. Y feuv danvennys yn kommolow dres nebes ourys. (Y’m hunrosow, my a borthas kov ow bos yn neb toll tewl, lenwys gans mog, ha my goslowys orth Muddy Waters, meur y dhelit. Yn apert, hemm o onan yntra’n experyansow moy plesont an jydh. Y fien vy ow koslowes orth an musyk na, re dhothya kyns dhiworth an stevell gemmyn, y’m isomwodhvos – musyk a weresa dhymm difeudhi flamm ow fayn.) Ha gyllys an koskles – ha dehwelys an payn – y teuth dhymm na via edhomm dhe Ingrid a ri dhymm difresyans-bayn mar nerthek – po, yn hwir, difresyans- bayn vytholl. Martesen, y fia dhedhi nebes edrek drefenn an drokter may kemmersa hi rann ynno – ha may vysytsa hi warnav an payn y’n kynsa le. Po, martesen, yth esa acheson arall dhedhi. My a wortsa rag ervira. Mar pe edrek, henn o neppyth a allsen gul devnydh anodho. o0o An nessa dydh, y teuth Ingrid gans an vilens ha ri dhedha arghadow rag ow helmi gans diwla ha gans dewdroes hag, ena, rag ow hemmeres dhe stevell- geskows. Y thriga Davydh y’n bagh, meur y gynyans ha’y hanasans. Yth esen a’gan esedh, Ingrid ha my, pubonan dh’unn du an voes vyghan prennek y’n stevell heb ayr. Hi a erghis dhe’n withysi dhe wortos yn-mes. I a wrug yndellna heb hokyans na govynn. Y koselhasa nebes hy maner a-ves. Byttegyns, ny yllyn hy threstya, heb mar. Wosa oll, hi re gemmersa rann yn folonjedhek y’m torment systemasek an jydh kyns. Y fia yn kosel a’y esedh ow kul notyansow ha my godhevys. “A-dro dhe byth a vynnydh keskewsel, ‘Dhoktour?” a wovynnis. “Ni a yll kewsel yn rydh omma. Nyn eus an Kapten, dres berrdermyn, dhe’n selva. Nyns eus daffar vyth rag gul rekordyans y’n stevell ma. Ny yllir naneyl agan observya.” Y sevis vy ow diwskoedh. Ple’th esa hi ow mos gans hemma? Hi a besyas: “An draow ma a leversysta y’n arethva an jydh arall, yns i gwir? Res yw dhymm godhvos. Yn hwiryonedh, esons i ow ladha yonkers a allsa omwellhe?” Hwath kelmys ow diwla ha’m dewdroes, my a boesas war-rag ha mires orti, ow dewlagas fast war hy dewlagas, ha leverel – rag hy ferswadya gwella gallen:

I decided it was opportune to assess the fallout, within the camp, of my little performance at the first lecture. If Ingrid wouldn’t tell me now, she was unlikely ever to tell me. “By the way, doctor, you said that Captain Mengele was not pleased with my contribution to his presentation. What was the problem?” Ingrid’s mind was apparently still elsewhere – where exactly I cannot say. She answered me as if in a dream, like an automaton. “Oh, the doughboys complained that we should have let you keep speaking. They said we must be hiding something, that it’s some kind of grand political conspiracy and that they don’t trust us anymore. Stuff like that.” “I suppose they’ve started writing to their congressmen?” I asked. Still in a dream, Ingrid answered simply: “Yes, they are, actually.” Then she suddenly snapped out of it, realized that I was milking her for information. “Hey! How did you know that? That’s classified information.” “Just a wild guess,” I replied. Although I did not actually know that the GI’s had started writing to their congressmen, I guessed that this was likely – and Ingrid had merely confirmed my guess. This was my next guess: “But none of those letters will ever get off this base, will they?” Ingrid set her mouth in a tight line – thus answering my question in the positive. (There was not readily available overseas phone access in those days and so, if the letters were stopped, sensitive or controversial information would not leak back to the States in any short time frame.) Ingrid stood abruptly: “This interview is concluded, prisoner. Guards?!” The guards came running and took me back to my cell.
My a erviras an prys dhe vos gwiw rag kavoes nebes skians a-dro dhe sywyans, a-berth y’n selva, drefenn ow ferformyans dres an kynsa areth na. Mar ny wrussa Ingrid ow derivas lemmyn, anhwirhaval o hi dhe’m derivas yn termyn a dhothya. “Tra arall, ‘Dhoktour. Ty a leveris nag o da gans Kapten Mengele pan res vy ow hevro dh’y areth. Pyth o an kudynn?” Yth esa brys Ingrid yn le arall, yn apert – ny allav leverel py le a-dhevis. Hi a worthybis dhymm dell pan eder yn hunros, kepar hag omvovel. “O, an dhowbois a grodhvolas. I a leveris ni dhe dyli dha asa pesya kewsel. I a leveris agan bos ow hudha neppyth hag yth esa neb eghenn a gesplottyans meur politek ha ny fydhyens i ynnon na fella. Taklow a’n par na.” “My a dhesevav i dhe dhalleth skrifa dh’aga eseli y’n Parlement?” a wovynnis. Hwath yn hunros, Ingrid a worthybis yn sempel: “Ya. Dallethons, yn hwir.” A-dhesempis, an hunros a hedhis. Yth heveli hi dhe aswonn pyth esov ow kul: assaya kavoes derivadow dhiworti. “Hay! Fatell a wodhyen henna? Henn yw derivadow kevrinek.” “Nyns o travyth a-der dismygyans gwyls,” a worthybis vy. Kyn na wodhyen yn hwir an soudoryon Amerikanek dhe dhalleth skrifa dh’aga eseli Parlement, my re dhismygsa an dra dhe vos gwirhaval – ha ny wrussa Ingrid saw konfirmya ow dismyk. Hemm o’m nessa dismyk: “Byttegyns, nyns eus lyther vyth dhiworta a wra gasa an selva?” Y teuth ha bos diwweus Ingrid linenn tynn – hag, yndellna, hi re’m gorthybsa “Ya”. (Yn dydhyow na, nyns esa servis tramor rag an pellgowser o kavadow yn es hag ytho, mar pe hedhys an lytherow ny via dowrfols vyth dhe’n Statys Unys, yn termyn berr dhe’n lyha, a dherivadow kevrinek po kontroversitek.) Y sevis Ingrid a-dhesempis: “An keskows ma yw gorfennys, a brysner. ‘Withysi?!” Y teuth an withysi yn unn boenya ha’m dasgemmeres dhe’m bagh.

Stupidly, I smiled. This wasn’t information that I wanted lightly to volunteer. Ingrid cast a meaningful glance through the glass panel of the door – at the goons still loitering, with interest, outside the interview room. It was not in my best interests to be coy, it seemed. “I’ll give you a hint,” I said. “These guys, those close friends of mine, seemed (to me, at least) to be very like the other young people who never even succumbed to the infection.” Ingrid was puzzled by this ‘hint’. “Other young people?” said her face. Perhaps, the ‘hint’ was a bit obscure for her. “But the only others who didn’t succumb were girls,” said Ingrid, stating the obvious. “I don’t understand your hint at all.” “Think about it, doctor: guys who seem a lot like girls?” (Remember this was the 70’s – a lot of people, including me and Ingrid, didn’t yet realise that many gay guys were not effeminate at all. After all, only ten years before, homosexuality was still officially regarded as a mental illness!) Ingrid half-shook her head before the look of revelation suddenly burst across her face. I nodded and smiled: “Well done, Doctor. It seems you’re making progress.” Actually, she was still a bit slow. She took some moments before blurting out: “Gay? Is that what you’re saying? That gay guys recover?” “My friends, the ones who recovered from the zombie bites were definitely gay – one of them was ‘out’ and the other may as well have been. So, that is indeed what I’m saying: gay guys do indeed get better,” I replied. “But that’s awful. Our best estimate, based on current research, is that one in six guys is gay,” she said – to no-one in particular. (This, indeed, was the statistic widely quoted at the time – though I always doubted it.) “You’ve got the stats, sister,” I replied. “Not me.”
Meur ow gokkineth, my a vinhwarthas. Nyns o hemma derivadow a vynnen ri yn es. Ingrid a dhannvonas golok der kwarel an daras – ha troha’n bilens hwath ow kwandra oll a-dro, yn-mes an stevell-geskows, meur aga hwans a wodhvos pyth esa ow hwarvos ynno. Nyns o dhe’m gwayn bos gohelus, dell heveli. “My a yll ri dhis gidyansik,” yn-medhav. “An bolatys ma, an kothmans ma dhymm, a heveli (dhymmo vy dhe’n lyha) bos kepar ha’n dus yowynk erell na goedhsa nevra dhe’n klevesans.” Ankombrys o Ingrid gans an ‘gidyansik’. “ ‘Dus yowynk erell’?” yn-medh hy thremmynn. Martesen, re ankler o rygdhi. “Mes nyns esa re erell vyth na goedhas dhe’n klevesans a-der myrghes,” yn- medh Ingrid, ow leverel pyth o apert. “Ny gonvedhav mann dha idyansik.” “Gwra prederi yn y gever, ‘Dhoktour: polatys a hevel meur bos kepar ha myrghes?” (Porth kov: yth esen hwath yn blydhynnyow ’70 – ny wodhya hwath meur a dus, my hag Ingrid y’ga mysk, bos meur a bolatys kethreydhel nag o benynek vyth. Ha, wosa oll, nyns o saw deg blydhen kyns kethreythegyeth dhe vos konsydrys yn soedhek dell o kleves a’n brys!) Ingrid hanter-shakyas hy fenn kyn dheuth a-dhesempis golowyans dh’y thremmynn. My a benndroppyas ha minhwerthin: “Gwrys da, ‘Dhoktour. Avonsyans dhis yw henna, dell hevel.” Yn hwir, hwath lent o hi. Byttegyns, wosa berrdermyn, hi a leveris heb preder: “Kethreydhel? Yw henna pyth esosta ow leverel? An bolatys gethreydhel a yll omwellhe?” “Ow sos, an re a omwellhas wosa an brathow-zombi, o yn sertan kethreydhel – onan anedha o ‘apert’ yn y gever ha’n huni arall o aswonnys bos yndella. Ytho, henn yw yn hwir pyth esov ow leverel: an yonkers gethreythel, (dhe’n lyha) a wra yn hwir omwellhe,” a worthybis. “Mes henn yw euthyk. Herwydh agan gwella dismygriv, selys war hwithrans a- dhiwedhes, yma onan yntra hwegh polat yw kethreydhel,” yn-medh hi – dhe dhenvyth arbennik, dell heveli. (An rannriv ma o yn hwir an statystyk dyllys ledan y’n termyn na – kynth esa pup-prys dout dhymm yn y gever.) “An statystygon yw genes jy, ow hwoer,” a worthybis. “Nyns yns genev.”

“If one in six zombies will recover,” she said, now somewhat incredulous, “and is therefore now being killed unnecessarily by our forces, then that’s ...” “...a major war crime,” I completed her thought. “Yes, I think that was what I said the other day to anyone who cared to listen – before Dr Mengele had me silenced. Am I right?” Ingrid ignored my question – and the reference to ‘Dr Mengele’, her superior officer . “But this is simply appalling,” she continued. “If it’s true what you say, we are bombing, shooting and burning thousands of kids who would otherwise recover. Why didn’t you say anything about this at that first lecture, when you had the chance?” I raised my eyebrows at her in mild surprise. She had obviously stopped listening to me - both now and back then. I let it pass. “Cast your mind back to that lecture, doctor. Firstly, you may recall that I was rather rudely interrupted before I was able to finish my comments to the assembled troops ...” Ingrid cast her mind back – and nodded a sheepish concession to me. “ ... and, secondly, what exactly do you think our ‘military planners’ would do differently if they thought the ones who might survive were probably ‘just a bunch of poofters’ - or ‘faggots’, as the doughboys would call them. Ingrid nodded again – slowly this time. She understood what I was saying only too well. The armed forces of the 1970’s did not tolerate gays within their ranks – and the generals would have little care if some gays were ‘wasted’ as ‘collateral damage’. Official tolerance of gay personnel would have to wait until the 21st century. Maybe Ingrid herself was gay – I didn’t ask and was not told. (How ironic – in view of the US military policy which was to come, much later.) In any event, she fell silent for a time and we continued to sit opposite each other at that small wooden table in a stuffy interview room.
“Mars omwellha onan yntra hwegh an zombis,” yn-medh hi, nebes ankryjyk lemmyn, “hag ytho yma an rann na ow bos ledhys gans agan lu, henn yw ...” “...drog-ober breselyek meur.” My a worfennas hy thybyans. “Ya, henn o pyth esen ow leverel an jydh arall, dell grysav – dhe’n dus gans bern lowr a woslowes orthymm – kyns beuv gwrys tawesek gans Doktour Mengele. Ov vy ewn?” Ingrid a skonyas aswonn ow govynn – ha’m kampoellans a ‘Dhoktour Mengele’, hy ughella soedhek. “Mes hemm yw euthyk yn tien,” a besyas hi. “Mars yw gwir, an pyth re leversysta, yth eson ow thanbellenna, ow leski hag ow thenna war vilyow a yonkers a allsa omwellhe. Prag na leversysta neppyth a-dro dhe hemma dres an kynsa areth, pan esa chons dhiso jy?” My a sevis ow diwabrans, kynth o byghan ow marth. Yn apert, y hedhsa hi goslowes orthymm – y’n termyn hedhyw hag ena keffrys. My a erviras dh’y asa koedha. “Gwra dasvysytya an areth ma, ‘Dhoktour. Y’n kynsa le, gwra perthi kov ow bos goderrys, yn anhweg, kyns my dhe alloes gorfenna ow hampoellow dhe’n soudoryon ena omguntellys ...” Ingrid a dhasvysytas an areth yn hy brys – ha penndroppya, nebes methek, orthymm. “...hag, y’n nessa le, pyth a grysydh agan ‘towloryon vreselek’ dhe wul yn tihaval mar krysens an re a allsa treusvywya bos yn hwirhaval ‘bagas pouftas’ – po ‘faggots’ dell lavarsa an dowbois.” Ingrid a benndroppyas arta – yn lent an prys ma. Hi a gonvedhsa yn ta pyth esen ow leverel. Ny wodhevi luyow an blydhynnyow 1970 bos dus gethreythel y’ga mysk – ha na via bern vyth yn mysk an bennhembrynkysi mar pe ‘gwastyes’ nebes anedha dre ‘dhamaj keslinek’. Perthyans soedhek personnel kethreydhel, res bia gortos rag henna bys an kansblydhenn 21ves. Martesen Ingrid hy honan o kethreydhel – possybyl o. Ny wovynnis ha ny leveris hi yndella. (Ass o henna ironek – res polysi breselek governans an Statys Unys y’n termyn a dhothya, nebes diwettha.) Yn neb kas, hi a goedhas tawesek dres pols ha ni pesyes bos a’gan esedh dhe bub tu an voes vyghan ma yn stevell-geskows, meur hy kloster.