truly well oor Kornies

truly well

Vertalings in die woordeboek Engels - Kornies

gwir yn ta

voorbeelde

I believe truly well, 870
my a grys pur wir yn ta

truly well
/ gwir yn ta / / /

I know right truly well
My a woer pur wir yn ta

Now I was truly embarrassed. It’s likely that I blushed. But I was a bit proud as well, secretly, really.
Lemmyn ankombrys en vy yn hwir. Gwirhaval yw my dhe rudhya. Mes nebes gothus en vy ynwedh, yn-dann gel, yn tevri.

THE EXPERIMENTS BEGIN I was, of course, perfectly prepared for the Captain and his assistant to take skin and blood samples. These would be completely useless because the key to the mystery of male zombification would later be found in the study of epigenetic changes in DNA wrought by the action of the virus. At that time, the study of DNA generally was exceedingly rudimentary (there would be no PCR or Human Genome Project for decades.) More than that, the study of epigenetics had hardly been thought of. (That is to say, unless you misguidedly included Lamarckianism within that scientific discipline.) (The relevant DNA of poor David had, of course, been well and truly ‘methylated’ by the virus.) Anyway, what I didn’t expect was the series of experiments that the Captain had in mind for both me and David – and I don’t think his original plans had been altered one iota by my ‘misbehaviour’ at his lecture. (At all subsequent lectures, when my attendance was required, I was bound and gagged.) Once the Captain’s experiments on us began, I took to referring to him as “Dr Mengele” – in remembrance of that awful medical monster, the “Angel of Death”, Josef Mengele, who performed some of his most hideous experiments on twins in the Nazi concentration camp at Auschwitz during WWII. The Captain sent for us. He sent his assistant doctor to collect us. She was the tall, striking woman who had escorted us to the lecture fiasco. Henceforth I shall call her Ingrid though this was not her real name. “The Captain is not very happy with you,” she said sternly. “So, don’t give me any trouble this time round.” ‘Trouble’? She hadn’t seen anything yet – not if I was to have my way. The three goons with the cattle prods came forward but I waved them away as if I were actually in charge. “No thanks,” I said. “There’s enough sparkle in my eyes already.” They took my ‘order’ and stood aside!
Y TALLETH AN ARBROVOW Parys en vy, heb mar, rag an Kapten ha’y dharbarer dhe kemmeres samplow a woes ha kroghen dhiworthyn. Euver yn tien a viens drefenn alhwedh an kevrin zombiheans gorow dhe vos kevys yn studhyans an chanjow epigenynnek yn ADN gwrys gans an virus warnodho. Y’n termyn na, dre vras, studhyans ADN o elvennek dres eghenn. (Ny via na CRP na Ragdres Genoem Denel bys lies degblydhen a-wosa.) Dres henna, skant ny via konsydrys studhyans epigenynnieth. (Henn yw leverel, marnas y komprehendys, yn kammdybys, tybyansow Lamarck a-berth y’n studhyans skiansek na.) (ADN o res dhe Dhavydh anfeusik re via, heb mar, ‘methylatys’ yn tien gans an virus.) Yn neb kas, pyth nag esen ow kwaytya o kevres an arbrovow re via towlys gans an Kapten rag Davydh ha my – ha ny grysav y dowlow derowel dhe vos chanjyes vyth gans ow ‘thebelfarans’ dres y areth. (Dres oll an arethow a sywyas, pan esa edhomm a’m attendyans, kelmys en vy ha’m ganow o lettyes.) Kettel dhallathas arbrovow an Kapten, y teuth ha bos y hanow “Doktour Mengele” ragov vy. Hemm o remembrans an euthvil medhygel, “El Mernans”, Josef Mengele y hanow, re wrussa nebes a’y arbrovow an moyha euthyk gans gevellyon dres an Nessa Bresel an Bys yn kampa keskreunyans Natsi henwys Auschwitz. An Kapten a dhanvonnas war agan lergh. Ev a dhanvonnas y isvedhyk rag agan kuntell. Hi o an venyn hir, marthys hy semlant, re wrussa agan ledya dhe’n areth, dhe’n moethow. Wosa hemma, my a wra hy henwel Ingrid kyn nag o hemma hy hanow gwir. “Nyns yw an Kapten pur lowen genes,” yn-medh hi, asper hy fisment. “Ytho, na rev dhymm namoy, an prys ma.” Grevya dhedhi? Ny welsa hi travyth na hwath – mar fia dhymm ow mynnas vy. Y teuth yn rag an tri bilen gans an pokow-jatel mes my a’s danvonnas yn kerdh gans gwevyans ow leuv kepar ha pan en yn charj. “Meur ras,” yn-medhav, “mes yma seulabrys terlentrow lowr y’m dewlagas.” I a obayas dhe’m ‘arghadow’ ha sevel a-denewen!

I realised immediately that I’d been overly optimistic – I had thought he might remember, in the deep recesses of his ‘mind’ that he had once been the family’s resident card-sharp. Apparently not – poker was out of the question. Maybe ‘snap’? No, I thought, I would start at an even more basic level than that – just as you would start with a small child. I would spread the cards out in front of him, grouping them in their suits and lining them up according to their numbers and images. Did David still have the capacity for pattern recognition with his degraded sight and his degraded mind? David and I sat cross-legged on the floor, facing each other in the semi- darkness of the crypt. He seemed to be watching me carefully as I lay out the four rows of cards in front of him: all the diamonds, all the hearts, all the spades and all the clubs in numerical order. What did he see? I sat silently as he seemed to move his head slowly in order to scan across the rows of cards – and back again. He started to make little grunting noises and then, with a roar and a violent sweep of his hand, scattered the deck across the floor. He put his face up close to mine and roared angrily once more – and then retreated to his makeshift bed and turned his back on me. “That went well,” I thought to myself, believing the opposite. I remained seated (and stunned) on the floor – but, within a short time, started to reconsider what had just happened. “If the cards truly meant nothing to him,” I wondered, “why the sudden display of anger?” Why the pointed retreat from me? That was not mere boredom or irritation. Had the cards triggered some painful memory? Was he suddenly aware of what he had now lost? I would have to wait and see. I was not going to get any more out of him today.
My a grysi a-dhistowgh ow bos re leun a waytyans. Y kryssen y hallsa perthi kov, y’n kilyer down a’y ‘vrys’, a’y vos kyns toellor-kartennow an teylu. Yn apert, nyns o hemma an kas. Nyns o possybyl ev dhe wari poeker. ‘Snap’, martesen? Na, a brederis vy, my a dhallathsen an gwari war nivel selvenel dres eghenn – kepar dell dhallathsen gwari gans fleghik: ow lesa an kartennow a-dheragdho hag ow kul bagasow anedha yn linennow herwydh aga sewtys, aga niverow ha’ga imajys. Esa hwath dhe Dhavydh galloes aswonn patronyow yn despit dh’y wolok dhiredhyes hag yn despit dh’y vrys diredhyes? Yth esen ni a’gan esedh war an leur, krowsegys agan diwarr ha’gan fasow an eyl orth y gila yn hanter-tewlder an gleudhgell. Yth heveli y vos ow mires orthymm ha my gorrys a-dheragdho peder res a gartennow: oll an adamantys, oll an kolonnow, oll an palyow hag oll an mullion – yn aray niverek. Pyth esa ow kweles? Yth esen a’m esedh, didros, hag ev hevelys gwaya y benn yn lent rag arhwilas a-dreus an resyow kartennow – dhe’n barth dyghow hag ena dhe’n barth kledh. Ev a wrug nebes roghigow hag ena, meur y vedhyglans, skattrys an kartennow war an leur gans skuberyans freudhek y dhorn. Bejeth ogas dhe vejeth, ev a vedhyglas yn serrys unnweyth arta – ha kildenna dh’y weli servadow ha treylya y geyn er ow bynn. “Henn eth yn ta,” a brederis vy, ow krysi kontrari. My a drigas a’m esedh war an leur, basys yn tien – byttegyns, wosa pols, my a dhallathas ombrederis a-dro dhe byth re hwarsa lemmyn. “Mar ny styrya an kartennow yn hwir mann dhodho,” a omwovynnis vy, “prag y hwrug a-dhesempis diskwedhyans a sorr a’n par na?” Prag y hwrug kildennans serth a’n par na dhiworthiv vy? Nyns o henna annians hepken po sorrvann. Martesen, an kartennow re sordsa kov ankensi. Martesen, ev a gonvedhsa a- dhesempis pyth re gollsa lemmyn. Res o dhymm gortos an gorthybow. Nyns esa moy bos dyskys dhiworto hedhyw.