blesys da oor Engels

blesys da

Vertalings in die woordeboek Kornies - Engels

delicious

adjektief

good-tasting

palatable

adjektief

tasty

adjektief

yummy

adjective noun

voorbeelde

blesys da [hanow gwann / hanow gwadn]
palatable

blesys da / HANOW GWANN palatable
blesys da / HANOW GWANN palatable

blesys da [ ]
palatable [ adj ]

blesys da [hanow gwann / hanow gwadn] [disamstyryans]
palatable - eatable

/ blesys da / / /
good-tasting

/ blesys da / / /
delicious

blesys da / HANOW GWANN palatable [gerlyver]
blesys da / HANOW GWANN palatable [dictionary]

blesys da ( ) ( ) ( ) ( ) ( ) ( adjective )
palatable - eatable

palatable blesys da / HANOW GWANN [gerlyver]
palatable blesys da / HANOW GWANN [dictionary]

/ blesys da / / hanow gwann / hanow gwadn /
palatable

/ blesys da / / /
tasty

blesys da adjective
palatable - eatable

/ blesys da / / /
yummy

/ blesys da / / /
palatable

palatable blesys da / HANOW GWANN
palatable blesys da / HANOW GWANN

/ blesys da / adj /
palatable

blesys da [ hanow gwann / hanow gwadn ]
palatable - eatable

PENNLAVAR Kyn na yllyn dagrewi rag El an Mernans Pukkapunyal, ny allsa omdhegyans Davydh pesya. Res o dhodho chanjya y vegyans – ha skonna galla. Wosa nebes dydhyow, ni re assa tiryow Bre an Krann (ni re worrsa korf Mengele yn salow a-berth y’n gowfordhow). Ni re dhasomgavsa dhe sugnekka rann an gwylvos a Vudhykka, moy delledhys dh’agan edhommow. (My re garas pup-prys ‘An Pow Ughel’ – kosel ha meur y bellder dhiworth an sita.) Ny vynnav agas veksya gans govisyon hag anken a dheuth dhyn ni dres an vyaj dhiworth Bre an Krann. Lowr yw leverel, ni a sewenas – hag nyns esa nebonan arall a veu dybrys a-hys an fordh na. My a gemmeras termyn lowr rag dasdhyki dell vydh gwrys guwow. My re gavsa kyns an skians ma pan o flogh, ow helghya preydh byghan war lannow Heylynn Darebin. (Hag, ya, yma dhymm lies roas kudhys.) Wosa nebes seythunyow – mes kyns ow famyans – my eth ha bos skentel yn kachyans an eghennow pals a am a allsa bos kevys y’gan tre nowydh.) Ny yllyn gul Davydh didheurys y’n boes a dheuth dhiworth an avonyow ena – pysk, meskel, gryllas-avon (myamm-myamm!) – byttegyns, wosa termyn lowr ha lies assayans, y teuth dewis arall, nebes blesys da dhe Dhavydh: wollabi tew ha yowynk. A brederis Davydh a-dhistowgh blas kig wollabi dhe vos da, kig rudh ha kough? Na brederis. Res o dhymm termyn ha perthyans, meur a dermyn ha meur a berthyans. Ev a skonyas an dewis ma dres termyn hir – ha res o dhymm godhevel lies kedrynn ha steryks-zombi. (Dhe wir, my re erviras bos meur a daklow yn kemmyn yntra zombis ha fleghes mayth esa dew vloedh.) Wor’tiwedh, byttegyns, ev a wrussa sywya a-dhelergh dhymmo vy ha my ow helghya, ha pan frappsen wollabi gans guw, ev a ressa yn uskis der an gwylvos ha koedha yn kraf warnodho – kepar dell wrussa dhe Gapten Doktour Mengele. Ass o lowen an dydhyow na! Unn jydh, ha ni a’gan esedh, ow densel orth agan diwettha kevywi a wollabi (goesek), my a dreylyas dhe Dhavydh ha leverel: “Fatell via genes Papoua Gyni Nowydh? My a gonvedh bos ena kangourous a drig y’n gwydh. Yth ons teg mes pur lent.” Davydh a roghas yn ughel – martesen, da a via ganso an tybyans ma.
EPILOGUE Though I shed no tears for Puckapunyal’s very own Angel of Death, David’s conduct simply could not go on. He needed a change of diet – and soon. Within a matter of days, we had moved from the Scrub Hill area (having safely stowed Dr Mengele’s remains deep within the tunnel complex) and relocated ourselves to a lusher part of the Victorian forest, more suited to our needs. (I’ve always like ‘The High Country’ – very remote, very undisturbed.) I’ll not trouble you with the trials and tribulations of that relocation. Suffice it to say, we made it there – and no-one else got eaten along the way. I took time out to re-learn the spear-making skills I had learned while hunting small prey along the Darebin Creek as a child. (And, yes, I do have many hidden talents). Within weeks, and before I starved, I became adept at catching the plentiful game that existed in our new home.) I could not interest David in food from the local waterways – fish, mussels and yabbies (yum!) – but, with time and practice, another, more palatable option eventually came onto the menu: chubby, young wallaby. Did David take easily to the lean, red meat of the wallaby? No, it took time and patience on my part, a lot of time and patience. He refused this option for a great deal of time – and I had to put up with many zombie tantrums. (I really have decided that zombies have much in common with two-year-olds). Eventually, however, he would trail along behind me as I hunted and, once I had speared a wallaby, he would sprint off through the bush and hungrily fall upon it – just as he had done with Captain Doctor Mengele. Oh, happy days! One day, as we sat contentedly munching upon our latest (bloody) wallaby feast, I turned to David and said: “How do you feel about Papua New Guinea? I hear they’ve got some lovely, but very slow, tree-kangaroos there.” David grunted loudly – I thought he might yet warm to the idea.