An Diank Meur oor Engels

An Diank Meur

Vertalings in die woordeboek Kornies - Engels

The Great Escape

voorbeelde

'An Diank Meur', Bownder Grackya-codna, Mellinowydh. Nyns o kosel!
'The Great Escape', Break my Neck Lane, Newmill. It wasn't quiet!

/ An Diank Meur / / /
The Great Escape

FO Yth esen ow kogoska y’n vedhegva. Hanternos o – po ogas. Yn mes, war blen an gerdhva, yth esa ow hwarvos tervans meur. Sonyow dornow ow frappya fismens, ha botas war rannow erell an korf, a allsa bos klywyes yn kler. Yth esa soudoryon ow skrija hag owth arma – Ostralek ha Yanki – yth esa braslavarow skruthus ha’n gelwans a henwyn drog. Yth esa re erell owth assaya yn euver rag konstrynya an freudh: arghadyow disobayes, hwibanans an withysi-gres vreselek. Yn skon, an selva dhien re dhothya dhe blen an gerdhva mayth esa kansow soudoryon yn omladh settyes nerthek dres eghenn. A-dhesempis, ughhewoel en vy – adrenalyn a yll gul henna. Wostalleth, my a brederis yn sempel: “Pyth a hwer?” Byttegyns, my a erviras yn skon bos froeth martesen dhe’n has plansyes genev yn brysyow an soudoryon Amerikanek. Has dout. Has omdowl. Yth esa yonkers, polatys onest, ow shyndya an eyl ha’n y gila war blen an gerdhva. Martesen, nyns en den mar jentyl, wosa oll. Mes, yn neb kas, res o dhymm devnydhya an tervans sordhyes genev rag gul ow diank. Meur ow skruth, my a wrug diswul an kolmansow re’m dalghennsa dhe’n gweli – yn hwir, y hallsen aga diswul kyns mes my re via mar glav ma na wrug assaya hogen. My a swaysas ow diwesker rag gorra ow dewdroes war an leur, an kynsa prys wosa nebes dydhyow. Yth assayis sevel. Kawgh! Pur wann en vy hwath drefenn an torment hag ytho y tasgoedhis, heb anall, war an gweli. Pyth a allsen gul? Ny dalvien gasa an deray ma dhe dremena. Res o dhymm sesya gwayn dhiworto. Ny dhothya arta an chons owrek ma. Y hyllyn klywes levow ughel ow tos dhiworth yn-mes, levow Ostralek, ow leverel taklow kepar ha: “Gwra ladha an aspier euthyk na! Kav an aspier-zombi! Ladh an ki byghan.” (Ha lavarow erell kepar ha’n re na.)
FLIGHT I was dozing in the infirmary. It was around midnight. Outside, on the parade ground, there was a heck of a commotion going on. The sounds of fist upon face and boot upon other body parts could be clearly heard. There were soldiers screaming and yelling, Aussies and Yanks – name-calling and dire threats. Others vainly trying to contain the brawling. Orders disobeyed. Whistles of MP’s. Soon, the whole camp had turned out onto the parade ground and there were hundreds of troops fighting an extremely vigorous pitched battle. Suddenly, I was wide awake – adrenalin does that. At first, I simply thought: “What is going on?” But then I guessed that the seeds I had planted in the minds of the Doughboys might now be bearing fruit. Seeds of doubt. Seeds of conflict. Young men, decent guys, were both injuring and being injured out there, on the parade ground. Maybe, I wasn’t such a nice person, after all. But, nice person or not, I needed to use the commotion that I had triggered to make my escape. In a panic, I undid the bindings which had been holding me to the bed – actually, I could have done this at any time but had been too ill to even bother trying. I swung my legs off the bed and put my feet on the floor for the first time in some days. I tried to stand. Shit! I was still very weak from the torture and flopped back, breathless, onto the bed. What to do? I couldn’t let this confusion pass without trying to take advantage. This golden opportunity would not come again. From outside, I could hear raised voices, Australian voices, saying things like: “Kill the fuckin’ spy! Get the zombie spy! Kill the little mongrel.” (And so on, like that.)

“Drog yw genev, ‘Vata,” a brederis vy. “Ni re wrug agan gwella. Nyns o da lowr.” Korporal a elwis dh’y bennsoedhek: “Nyns yw zombi, an huni ma, Syrr,” yn-medh ev, hag ev poyntyes troha my. “Martesen kesoberer yw.” Y teuth Kapten dhyn ni. Yth esa ow kwiska arwoedhik kadusius. Medhek breselek o. “Kesoberer?!” a skornyas ev. “Ass o tybyans gokki.” Ev a viras, y’n kynsa le, orthymmo vy – ena, orth Davydh. Ev a wrug yndellna teyr po peder gweyth. “Unnwoes yns. Breder yns, dell grysav. Martesen, gevellyon hogen. Nebes kales yw dhe leverel pyth o semlans an zombi nans yw nebes dydhyow – drefenn bos lemmyn loes y groghen ha drefenn bos an lastedhes goesek warnodho.” Ev a gewsis dhymm: “Hou, Ty! Y hallsen vy erghi dhe’n soudoryon dha denna drefenn dha vos aspiyas. Ty a woer henna, a ny wodhesta? My a dhesev na vos yn hwir serjont yn Lu Ostralek Hy Meuredh Ryal. Dres termynyow a vresel, an kessydhyans rag omfugya avel souder po soedhek yw mernans heb lettya, a nyns ywa?” Ya, my a wodhya henna. Byttegyns, esen ni dhe wir yn ‘termynyow a vresel’? Yn neb kas, Davydh ha my a vetsa orth agan mernans warbarth, dell heveli. Dhe’n lyha, neb konfort dhymm o hemma. Y remaynis vy tawesek. Nyns esa travyth bos leverys. Ena, y hwarva unn dra goynt. Heb gwarnyans, y chanjas maner an Kapten. Ev a’m eksamnyas, meur y rach. Heb mar, Davydh a besyas bedhygla y brotestyans hag assaya heb sewen diank an roes. Y teuth an Kapten rag esedha rybov. Ev a removas y hatt ha kewsel genev yn ton ewntrek – o pur skruthus: “A via gwell genes bos tennys, lemmyn hag omma, yn maner a dhegoedh aspiyas – po a via gwell genes pesya bywya – hag, yn possybyl, gwitha keffrys bywnans dha zombi gar-ogas – dres pols dhe’n lyha?”
“Sorry, Mate,” I thought. “We did our best. It just wasn’t good enough.” A corporal called his commanding officer over: “This one isn’t a zombie, Sir,” he said, pointing in my direction. “Perhaps he’s a collaborator.” A Captain approached. He wore a caduceus badge. He was a military doctor. “A collaborator?!” he scoffed. “What an absurd concept.” “He looked first at me and then at David. He did the same thing three or four times. “They’re related. Brothers, I’d say. Maybe even twins. It’s a bit hard to tell what the zombie looked like a few days ago – what with that awful grey skin and bloody mess that they all seem to wear.” He addressed himself to me: “You there! I could have you shot as a spy, you know. I assume you’re not really a Sergeant in Her Majesty’s Australian Army. The penalty for impersonating army personnel during time of war is summary execution, you know.” Yes, I had heard of this, now that I thought of it – but was this really a war? In any event, it seemed that David and I would be going together. That, at least, was some comfort. I remained silent. I had nothing to say. Then a strange thing happened. The Captain’s manner abruptly changed. He examined me and David more closely. David kept roaring his protest, of course, and tried vainly to escape his bonds. The Captain came and sat himself beside me, took off his hat and assumed an avuncular (but definitely creepy) tone with me: “Would you rather be shot, here and now, as a spy – or would you prefer to live on and, possibly, ensure the existence of your zombie relative for a while yet?”

AN HELGHOR HA’N HUNI HELGHYES Karetys yn kanna ha bewin sellys – henn o’m kynsa boes wosa agan diank dhiworth Pukkapunyal. Hag, yn hwir, y hwodhva meur ras anodho. Dres lyklod, an Serjont re dhalgennsa pyth a ylli sesya yn mysk an taklow ow korwedha war vynkow y’n voesva ha’ga thewlel y’n sagh keyn. Avel melyssand, yth esa fardellik leun a desennow-kales, kales dres eghenn, leshenwys ‘tesennow-kales rag an keun’. Leun a vegyans, sur ov, ha gans meur a fiber – mes yth esens dhedha blas a gawgh fornyes. (Gwra tybi dha vos y’n kaskleudhyow an Voward a’n Howlsedhes, a’th sav down yn leys – hag ena res o dhis dybri an tesennow-kales na rag keun. Thukk!) My a ros tamm bewin sellys dhe Dhavydh. Yn targanadow, ev a viras orto, meur y skorn (mar kyll dewlagas marow diskwedhedhes skorn). Yn apert, kas o dhodho yn y gever. Ev a wrug son kepar ha bramm ha’y dewlel dhe-ves a- dhistowgh. Homm o neppyth may fia edhomm dhymm oberi. My a wodhya na yllyn menowgh kavoes proviansow a gig denel kro, heb meur a galetter. Ytho, res a via dhe Dhavydh kavoes neppyth arall dhe dhybri, neppyth o gwiw dh’y stevnik-zombi. (Ha nyns o bewin sellys an ‘neppyth’ na, yn apert.) Hanter-dohajydh, my a erviras gul neb hwithrans. War benn an nessa bre, bre ughella ages an huni le mayth esen ni, bre an gowfordh, y sevi tour-goelyador forsakyes. Henn yw leverel, onan a’n touryow, gwann ha prennek, may hwre esedha tangasoryon rag hwilas sinys a vog orth an gorwel – po y’n gwylvos nes dhedha. Yn sertan, ny via an huni ma devnydhyes dres lies blydhen. Yth esa ow leytha (ha felsys) y lithyow framweythel – gwrys gans prennyer dhiworth an gwylvos ma, heb dhout. Dres henna, yth esa poesans apert dhe’n drehevyans dien hag y halsa nans o termyn pur hir an skovva a esedhsa war y benn. (Yth esa temmyn anedhi skoellyes oll a-dro y ven, ow teudhi yn lent y’n dor.) Byttele, nyns o an tour hwath ow fyllel yn tien hag ytho y hyllyn, gans neb kaletter, y grambla. Kepar dell gryssen, penn an tour a ros dhymm gwel an lasneth oll a-dro, a-dreus milvilyow anedhi – hag, y’n pellder, my a ylli gweles selva Pukkapunyal. Ha, dres henna, y hyllyn gweles a-hys oll an fordh (po ogas) a ledya dhiworth an gwylvos a-dro dhe Vre an Krann dhe’n selva.
THE HUNTER AND THE HUNTED Tinned carrots and corned beef – that was my first meal after escaping from Puckapunyal. And I was truly grateful for it. Presumably, the Sergeant had grabbed what he could from what was lying about in the mess and had thrown it into the kitbag. For ‘dessert’, there was a packet of rock-hard ‘dog biscuits’. Very nutritious, I’m sure, and lots of fibre – but they tasted like baked excrement. (Imagine being up to your thighs in mud, in the trenches of the Western Front, and then having to eat those dog biscuits. Yuck!) I gave some corned beef to David. Predictably, he looked at it scornfully (inasmuch as dead eyes can express scorn), made a very disapproving noise (which sounded like flatulence) and promptly discarded it. This was something I would need to work on. I knew I couldn’t readily obtain a regular supply of freshly killed human flesh. So, David would just have to find something else that suited his zombie palate. (And corned beef was obviously not that ‘something’.) By mid-afternoon, we decided to do a little exploring. On an adjacent hill-top, a hill which was much higher than the one into which the tunnel had been driven, there stood an abandoned watch-tower. You know, one of those spindly wooden towers that fire-fighters sit in to watch for any signs of smoke on the horizon or, close by, in the bush. This one had definitely not been in service for many years. Its structural members, made of local timber, were rotting and cracked. The whole thing had developed a discernible lean and the original cover for the platform that sat atop the structure had been blown away a long, long time ago. (Bits of it lay about the base, slowly melting into the humus.) Nevertheless, the tower was not entirely on the point of collapse and I was able, with some difficulty, to climb it. Just as I had suspected, this vantage point afforded me with a view not only of the surrounding bushland for miles around but, in the distance, of the main base at Puckapunyal. Far more importantly, I could see (more or less) right along the road that led to the base from the Scrub Hill area.

‘My a’n porthas dre dermyn mar hir dell yllis vy, mes an gwiryonedh o a-vri dres eghenn, ha wor’tiwedh, res o dhymm bos anhwek. My a worras own a dan warnodho, hag a dennas an hwedhel gwir diworto, tamm ha tamm, gans merans ha gryslans meur. Ev a dybis y vos kammgonvedhys ha tebeldyghtys. Mes wor’tiwedh, pan lavarsa ev y istori orthiv, bys yn diwedh a’n gwari-rim ha diank Bylbo, ny wrussa ev leverel moy, marnas kampoellow tewl. Yth esa neb own dhodho hag o brassa es y own ahanav. Ev a hanasas ev dhe gavoes drog-gras. Ev a dhiskwedhsa dhe dus ma na borthsa ev bos potys, ha dannvenys yn toll, ha perthi tus a ladra diworto. Yth esa kowetha da dhe Golum lemmyn, kowetha da ha pur grev. I a’n gweressa. Bagyns a dalvia. Henn o y benndybyans. Kas o gans Golum Bylbo, hag ev a volletha y hanow. Hag ynwedh, ev a woer an le may teuth ev.’
'I endured him as long as I could, but the truth was desperately important, and in the end I had to be harsh. I put the fear of fire on him, and wrung the true story out of him, bit by bit, together with much snivelling and snarling. He thought he was misunderstood and ill-used. But when he had at last told me his history, as far as the end of the Riddle-game and Bilbo’s escape, he would not say any more, except in dark hints. Some other fear was on him greater than mine. He muttered that he was going to gel his own back. People would see if he would stand being kicked, and driven into a hole and then robbed. Gollum had good friends now, good friends and very strong. They would help him. Baggins would pay for it. That was his chief thought. He hated Bilbo and cursed his name. What is more, he knew where he came from.’

EBROWYON 2 An Selwyans Meur 1Rakhenna y tegoedh dhyn koela dhe voy orth an traow yw klewys, ma nag ellen gans an liv. 2Rag mars o fyrv an ger kewsys gans an eledh, ha mar tegemmeri pub kammweyth po diwostytter attal ewn, 3fatell wren ni diank mar ny wren vri a selwyans mar veur? Derivys veu yn kynsa der an Arloedh, ha dustuniys dhyn gans an re a'n klewas, 4ha Duw a dhustunias ynwedh der arwoedhyow ha dre varthusyon ha dre wriansow nerthek a bub eghenn ha dre rohow an Spyrys Sans rynnys herwydh y vodh y honan. Pennsevik Selwyans 5Rag ny veu yn-dann eledh y hworras Duw an bys dhe dhos, hag anodho dell gewsyn. 6Destys yw yn neb le, ‘Pyth yw den may perthydh kov anodho, po mab den ma'n gwithydh? 7Ty a'n gwrug rag termyn nebes isella ages an eledh, ty re'n kurunas gans golewder hag enor, 8ow korra pup-tra yn gostytter yn-dann y dreys.’ Rag, dre worra pup-tra yn gostytter dhodho, ny asas travyth diwostydh dhodho. Rag lemmyn, ny welyn hwath pup-tra dhe vos gostydh dhodho. 9Mes ni a wel Yesu, neb a veu gwrys nebes isella ages an eledh, lemmyn kurunys gans golewder hag enor dre wodhevel mernans, may tastya mernans rag pub huni, dre ras Duw. 10Rag yth o gwiw ev, mayth usi pup-tra yn few ragdho ha dredho, ow tri lies mab dhe glori, dhe wul awtour aga selwyans perfydh dre wodhevel. 11Rag ev neb a sansha, ha'n re yw sanshes, yw oll a'n unn devedhyans. Henn yw prag na'n jeves meth dh'aga gelwel breder, 12ow leverel, ‘My a dheriv dha hanow dhe'm breder, yn mysk an kuntelles my a'th wormel.’ 13Hag arta, ‘My a vynn gorra ow fydhyans ynno.’ Hag arta, ‘Ottavy ha'n fleghes re ros dhymm Duw.’ 14Ytho, a-ban gemmeras an fleghes rann yn kig ha goes, ev y honan a gevrennas a'n keth traow, may tistrua, dre vernans, neb a'n jeves galloes mernans, henn yw, an jowl, 15ha delivra an re oll neb a berthi kethneth, der own a vernans, der aga bewnans oll. 16Rag yn tevri nyns yw y breder a-dro dhe'n eledh, mes a-dro dhe has Abraham. 17Ytho, y tegoedhva dhodho bos haval dh'y vreder yn pub tremmynn, mayth ella ha bos arghoferyas tregeredhus ha lel yn gonis Duw, dhe wul dehwelyans rag peghosow an bobel. 18Rag drefenn ev y honan dhe wodhevel ha bos temptys, ev a yll gweres dhe'n re a vydh temptys.
HEBREWS 2 Warning to Pay Attention 1We must pay the most careful attention, therefore, to what we have heard, so that we do not drift away. 2For since the message spoken through angels was binding, and every violation and disobedience received its just punishment, 3how shall we escape if we ignore so great a salvation? This salvation, which was first announced by the Lord, was confirmed to us by those who heard him. 4God also testified to it by signs, wonders and various miracles, and by gifts of the Holy Spirit distributed according to his will. Jesus Made Fully Human 5It is not to angels that he has subjected the world to come, about which we are speaking. 6But there is a place where someone has testified: “What is mankind that you are mindful of them, a son of man that you care for him? 7You made them a little lower than the angels; you crowned them with glory and honor 8and put everything under their feet.” In putting everything under them, God left nothing that is not subject to them. Yet at present we do not see everything subject to them. 9But we do see Jesus, who was made lower than the angels for a little while, now crowned with glory and honor because he suffered death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone. 10In bringing many sons and daughters to glory, it was fitting that God, for whom and through whom everything exists, should make the pioneer of their salvation perfect through what he suffered. 11Both the one who makes people holy and those who are made holy are of the same family. So Jesus is not ashamed to call them brothers and sisters. 12He says, “I will declare your name to my brothers and sisters; in the assembly I will sing your praises.” 13And again, “I will put my trust in him.” And again he says, “Here am I, and the children God has given me.” 14Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might break the power of him who holds the power of death—that is, the devil— 15and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death. 16For surely it is not angels he helps, but Abraham’s descendants. 17For this reason he had to be made like them, fully human in every way, in order that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in service to God, and that he might make atonement for the sins of the people. 18Because he himself suffered when he was tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted.