wooden table oor Kornies

wooden table

Vertalings in die woordeboek Engels - Kornies

moos brenn

voorbeelde

wooden table
/ moos brenn / / /

Look, there's lichen colonising our metal table. That's strange? There isn't much lichen on the wooden table. I can hardly believe it!
Ott, yma fongalgi ow kul gwlasva war agan moos alkan. Ass yw koynt henna? Nyns yw fongalgi pals war'n voos a brenn. Skant ny'n krysav!

This table's wooden.
Prenn yw an voos ma.

This table's wooden.
An voos ma yw prenn.

This table is wooden.
An voos ma yw prenn.

This table is wooden.
Prenn yw an voos ma.

“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.

THE MISSING BIT OF THE STORY I don’t know what happened next. I wasn’t there and never heard. At the relevant time, I was drifting in and out of consciousness in the infirmary – still feeling like shit whenever I awoke properly. (In more recent times, doctors have told me that they are amazed that I survived at all. As well as my lungs being badly scarred, there was evidence of bleeding in the brain, revealed by an MRI years later. The doctor who did the scan told me that I looked like a boxer who’d had too many fights. But, surely, he must have exaggerated – after all, I ended up pursuing a reasonably successful career (though, I confess, I often feel a bit vague these days.) In any case, over the years, I have ‘filled in’ the missing bit of the story – in my own mind, at least. This probably bears no relationship to what actually happened but I’ll share this version of the missing piece with you. If you ever find out what really happened, write and let me know – I’m still curious. o0o The Prince of Wales Hotel, Emily Street, Seymour, Victoria, Australia. This was a favourite watering-hole for Australian troops returning to Puckapunyal from the zombie ‘battle’ front. (Others favoured the Terminus Hotel and the Railway Hotel – but you don’t need to know that.) The overseas troops who were still on the base – and who had not yet been deployed to the battle front – also favoured the Prince of Wales. How shall I describe the Public Bar of the Prince of Wales, circa 1970? Ever been to a country pub that has not been renovated since around that time? If so, you’ve seen the Public Bar of the Prince of Wales: definitely no soft surfaces, a worn and cracked linoleum floor (for easy cleaning) and a number of ‘tall’ wooden tables around which knots of drinkers gathered and upon which they rested their glasses.
RANN KELLYS AN HWEDHEL Ny wonn pyth a hwarva nessa. Nyns esen vy ena ha ny glywis nevra yn y gever. Y’n termyn na, yth esen hwath ow mos po yn omwodhvos po yn-mes ha my y’n vedhegva. Peskweyth may tifunis yn ewn, my a omglywo unnweyth arta kepar ha kawgh. (Y’n termynyow a-dhiwedhes, y feuv derivys gans medhogyon aga bos sowdhenys gans ow threusvywnans. Kreythyes o’m skevens mes, dres henna, y fia goesans y’m ympynnyon a ylli bos gwelys yn IDT (Imaj Dassensans Tennvennek), gwrys nans yw nebes blydhynnyow. An medhek neb re wrussa an skann a dherivas dhymm ow bos kepar ha boksesor wosa re a gasow. Byttegyns, yn sur, ev a dalvia mos re bell - wosa oll, my a ylli a-wosa seweni da lowr yn resegva wordhi (kynth omglywav menowgh, an dydhyow ma, nebes niwlek y’m brys, dell avowav.) Yn neb kas, dres an blydhynnyow re sewenas, my a ylli ‘kollenwel’ an hwedhel gans an rann kellys - y’m brys ow honan, dhe’n lyha. Yn hwirhaval, ny vydh kevrenn vyth yntra’w rann ma ha’n hwedhel gwir – byttele, my a vynn kevrenna ow versyon an tamm kellys genowgh hwi. Byttegyns, mar diskudhowgh an gwirionedh y’n termyn a dheu, gwrewgh skrifa dhymm rag ow derivas – hwath govynnus ov. o0o Ostel Pennsevik Kembra, Stret Emyli, Simour, Budhykka, Ostrali. Dowran moyha kerys o an soudoryon Ostralek ow tehweles dhe Bukkapunyal dhiworth voward an vatel-zombi. (Moyha kerys an re erell o an Ostel Pennhyns po an Ostel Hyns-horn – mes nyns eus edhomm dhywgh a wodhvos henna.) Ostel Pennsevik Kembra, da o keffrys gans an soudoryon tramor esa hwath war an selva – ha na via na hwath danvennys dhe’n voward-vatel. Fatell allav deskrifa barr poblek an Ostel Pennsevik Kembra, y’n blydhynnyow 1970? A wodrigsowgh hwi diwotti y’n pow na via nowydhhes a-dhia an oes na? Mar kodrisowgh diwotti a’n par na, hwi re welas barr poblek an Ostel Pennsevik Kembra: nyns esa arenebow medhel vyth mes linoeleum, skwardyes ha krakkys, war an leur (rag y wul essa dhe lanhe) ha lies moes brennek ‘hir’ mayth esa kuntellys ‘kolmow’ a evysi ha warnedhi aga gwedrennow.

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: