diwettha tren oor Engels

diwettha tren

Vertalings in die woordeboek Kornies - Engels

last train

voorbeelde

Hemm yw an diwettha tren.
This is the last train.

An diwettha tren yw.
It's the last train.

An diwettha tren yw.
It is the last train.

Hemm yw an diwettha tren.
It's the last train.

/ diwettha tren / / /
last train

1376 An tren kledhrennow ledan diwettha a bonyas war an 20ves a vis Me 1892, a-ban dhana pub tren re beu geyj savonek. 60.1444
1376 An tren kledhrennow ledan diwettha a bonyas war an 20ves a vis Me 1892, a-ban dhana pub tren re beu geyj savonek. 60.1444

1375 An tren kledhrennow efan diwettha Hyns-horn an West Bras a oberys yn 1892. 63.4951
1375 An tren kledhrennow efan diwettha Hyns-horn an West Bras a oberys yn 1892. 63.4951

943 An mergh a veu dres yn-bann a-dhyworth Bentewyn gans kensa tren an jydh; gesys o jynnow yn Sen Ostel yn bledhynnyow diwettha. 39.1667
943 An mergh a veu dres yn-bann a-dhyworth Bentewyn gans kensa tren an jydh; gesys o jynnow yn Sen Ostel yn bledhynnyow diwettha. 39.1667

Hyns-horn an West Bras (HWB) po The Great Western Railway (GWR) yn Sowsnek o kompani hyns-horn bretennek a junyas Loundres gans an west ha'n soth-west a Bow Sows ha lower a Gembra. Fondyas yn 1833 o hag a recevys y Ober a Senedh yn 1835. Isambard Kingdom Brunel o an yngynor, a wrug dewis kledhrennow efan a 7 tros-hys ha kwartron meusva (2,140 mm), mes dhyworth 1854 ev a dhallathys owth oberi trennow 4 tros-hys 8 ha 1/2 meusva (1,435 mm), kledhrennow savonek. An tren kledhrennow efan diwettha Hyns-horn an West Bras a oberys yn 1892. An kompani a stoppyas ow pos dhe'n diwedh 1947 pan ev a eth hag o an Ranndir West a Gledhrennow Bretennek
Hyns-horn an West Bras

Hyns-horn an West Bras (HWB) po The Great Western Railway (GWR) yn Sowsnek o kompani hyns-horn bretennek a junyas Loundres gans an west ha'n soth-west a Bow Sows ha lower a Gembra. Fondyas yn 1833 o hag a recevys y Ober a Senedh yn 1835. Isambard Kingdom Brunel o an yngynor, a wrug dewis kledhrennow efan a 7 tros-hys ha kwartron meusva (2,140 mm), mes dhyworth 1854 ev a dhallathys owth oberi trennow 4 tros-hys 8 ha 1/2 meusva (1,435 mm), kledhrennow savonek. An tren kledhrennow efan diwettha Hyns-horn an West Bras a oberys yn 1892. An kompani a stoppyas ow pos dhe'n diwedh 1947 pan ev a eth hag o an Ranndir West a Gledhrennow Bretennek.
Hyns-horn an West Bras (HWB) po The Great Western Railway (GWR) yn Sowsnek o kompani hyns-horn bretennek a junyas Loundres gans an west ha'n soth-west a Bow Sows ha lower a Gembra. Fondyas yn 1833 o hag a recevys y Ober a Senedh yn 1835. Isambard Kingdom Brunel o an yngynor, a wrug dewis kledhrennow efan a 7 tros-hys ha kwartron meusva (2,140 mm), mes dhyworth 1854 ev a dhallathys owth oberi trennow 4 tros-hys 8 ha 1/2 meusva (1,435 mm), kledhrennow savonek. An tren kledhrennow efan diwettha Hyns-horn an West Bras a oberys yn 1892. An kompani a stoppyas ow pos dhe'n diwedh 1947 pan ev a eth hag o an Ranndir West a Gledhrennow Bretennek.

1337 An system o an diwettha kevreyth hensi-horn kledhrennow kul dhe oberi yn Wordhen hag y junyas gans an penn-hyns-horn dhe Enys, le mayth usi gorsav hwath y'n jydh hedhyw rag gonisyow kyttrin ha tren dhe Luimneach ha Gaillimh. 36.9811
1337 An system o an diwettha kevreyth hensi-horn kledhrennow kul dhe oberi yn Wordhen hag y junyas gans an penn-hyns-horn dhe Enys, le mayth usi gorsav hwath y'n jydh hedhyw rag gonisyow kyttrin ha tren dhe Luimneach ha Gaillimh. 36.9811

UGHKAPTEN FYSLEK Yth arayis nebes yntra’n fardellow erell esa y’n koch hag omboesa erbynn an eler. Y hyllyn klywes krodhvolans heb lett dhiworth Dhavydh. Byttegyns, nyns o hemma kudynn ragov. Koch-fardellow o trosek dres eghenn ha nyns esen orth y gevrenna gans dus erell. “Ytho, ow broder ker, gwra pesya krodhvolas, mar pleg,” a brederis vy – heb leverel geryow vyth. Kemmyn o furv an tren y’n termyn na. Yn hwir, yth esa hwath nebes trenow a’n furv ma ow resek war linennow-bow yn Budhykka: margh-tan disel ow tenna plethenn kochow rudh diliwys. Nyns esa saw onan anedha verkys ‘Kynsa Renk’. (Moy y es, yth o brassa ha nebes kosella). An tren o lent, bras ha poes. Y hwayas an kochow dhiworth unn du dh’y gila hag i gyllys a-hys an linennow (na fia gwellhes – ena - a-ban oes an Kyldro Meur a’n blydhynnyow 1930. Ober ‘Susso’ (sosten) pur dha o y’n termynyow na, daswrians an linennow: ober mar dha (po ogas) dell oberi war Fordh Veur an Mor po war Rosva Ayvanhow. Byttegyns, yth esov ow kwandra! Yth esov ow tiskwedhes ow bloedh lemmyn. Kesrakkoryon yw molleth, a nyns i? (Dhe bubonan oll a-der an kesrakker!) Yn neb kas, y’m breus vy, yth esa puptra oll ow mos yn ta – bys pan dhrehedhsyn gorsav Kyneton, wosa ogas dhe’n our. “Gwra gorra ow fardellow y’n koch na – ha gwra fyski!” An re na o an kynsa geryow a glywis ow tos dhiworth an Ughkapten. Daras an koch-fardellow a slynkyas apert hag yth entras ynno souder, meur y own, ankombrys gans lies fardell – nag o, yn apert, dhodho ev. Ev a wrug y wella rag aga gorra war leur an koch mes y hesis koedha onan anedha re via synsys yn-dann y vregh. Koedhys a wrug ev gans boemm ughel. “Folwas! My a’th worr a-dherag breuslys an lu ...” An Ughkapten a besyas yn geryow a’n par na dres dew vynysenn dien – termyn ewn an powes orth an orsav na. Yth esa an souder a’y sav yn attendyans hag ev degemmerys, ownek ha didros, an kabel tynn a dheuth diworth y soedhek. “Diyskynn lemmyn, tywokki!” a armas an Ughkapten dhe’n souder. An huni diwettha a wrug yndella a-dhistowgh ha heb govynn, hag an tren dallethys gwaya. Byttegyns, re diwettha o rag an Ughkapten y honan dhe dhiyskynna dhiworth an koch-fardellow rag kemmeres y le yntra’n dremenysi erell an kynsa renkas.
AN OFFICIOUS MAJOR I arranged some of the other pieces of luggage that were in the van and propped myself up against the coffin. I could hear David’s continuous grumbling but was not particularly troubled. The baggage car was extremely noisy and we were sharing it with no-one else. “So, my dear brother, grumble away!” I thought – but didn’t say so. The train was typical of the time – some of this type are still running on Victoria’s country rail-lines. A diesel locomotive with a string of faded red passenger carriages but only one allocated to ‘First Class’ (bigger, comfier seats, a bit quieter overall). The train was slow, lumbering and the carriages swayed from side to side as they made their way along tracks that had (then) not been upgraded since the Great Depression of the 1930’s. Excellent ‘Susso’ work back then, redoing the train tracks – almost as good as working on the Great Ocean Road or the Ivanhoe Boulevard. But I digress! I’m showing my age now. Confabulation is such a curse – to everyone but the confabulator! Anyway, from my personal point of view, everything was going swimmingly – until we reached Kyneton station, about an hour out of the City. “Stow my luggage in that car, Private – and be snappy about it!” These were the first words I heard come from the Major. The door of the baggage car slid open and a timorous private entered, weighed down by numerous pieces of luggage – obviously not his own. He did his best to place them inside the carriage but managed to drop one case, hitherto held under his arm. It fell to the floor with a loud thud. “You imbecile! I’ll have you court-martialled ...” And so on, in that vein, for a full two minutes – the exact time of the scheduled stop at the station. The private stood to attention and absorbed the vile invective that came from his superior officer: terrified and silent. “Get off, you fool!” he yelled at the private – who did so immediately and without question, as the train started to move. However, it was too late for the Major himself to alight from the baggage car and take his place among the other passengers (presumably, in the first-class section of the train.)

My a dreylyas dhe Dhavydh, meur hwath y dros dybrians: “Dewis euthyk yw, ‘Dhav. Eus dhis gwella tybyansow?” Ev a levas an geryow “gronff” ha “nunff” (lenwys y anow) mes ny grysav an geryow ma dhe vos dre fordh a worthyp. Ogas dhe vora o. Y lenthas an tren hag ev ow neshe dhe’n orsav Kastlemayne. My a draylyas Davydh dhiworth an Ughkapten – po, dhe’n lyha y remenant, ha hwettya y fas, gorherys gans goes ha kig denel. Nyns o henna rag y dhiskwedhes ow fowt kommendyans, heb mar. Res o dhymm yn sempel gwaynya y attendyans. My a’n traylyas bys porth an koch-fardellow. Ev a vedhyglas y grodhvol hag assaya dehweles dhe’n dra mayth esa an moyha bern dhodho. My a’n dastennas ha, ow fas erbynn y huni, dasri y vedhyglans: “Mar trigyn omma, y fydhyn marow!” Meur y yeunes, ev a viras orth pyth esa ow korwedha war an leur – mes, dhe’n lyha, ev a’m konvedhas. Yth esa y lust-woes owth omdenna ha, lemmyn, ev a ylli ow klywes yn mysk konnar y ‘brederow’ y honan (pypynag ens i). Ev a goelas orthiv, dell heveli, hag ytho ervira dhe’m sywya – yn despit dh’y dhebron meur dhe driga rag kowlwul y omgemmeryans grysel. Y fesya an tren dhe fronna ha lenthe. Pan o an toeth kepar dell gerdh den, ni a lammsa dre borth an koch – kyns an tren dhe dhrehedhes an kay ha keffrys, dell esa govenek dhymm, kyns an govynnow tykkli orth agan gortos ena. My a slynkyas daras an koch-fardellow poran pellder lowr rag gasa ni dhe dremena dredho. Yth esa an tren a-berth y’n diwettha 50m dhiworth an kay kyns my dhe grysi bos salow rag agan lamm. Seulabrys, yth esen ow synsi paw loubek dhe Dhavydh. Ni a lammas warbarth ha tirhe yndellma: unn hanter war an laster meyn-loes ha’n hanter arall war an pri kales rybdho. Meur ow fayn, heb gwyns en. Yth esen ow korwedha ena dres nebes eylennow presyous, owth omwovynn mars esa neppyth terrys dhymm. Yn kettermyn, yth esa Davydh a’y sav hag, yn apert, yn poynt da – mar nyns eus skians vyth dhodho, nyns eus klywans na byth moy, dell heveli dhymm y’n tor’ na. Kynth esa hwath payn yn lies rann ow horf, nyns o possybyl dhe darya ha my gwelys an tren ow hedhi orth an orsav. Hwath igor o daras an koch-fardellow. Diskudhans o rybon ni. My a omdraylyas a’m sav ha kemmeres paw Davydh unnweyth arta.
I turned to the noisily-feasting David: “It’s a crap option, Dave. Any better ideas?” He uttered the words “gronff” and “nunff” (with a full mouth) but I don’t think it was by way of reply. It was nearing dawn. The train slowed on its approach to Castlemaine station. I dragged David away from the Major – or what was left of him – and slapped David’s bloody, gory face. This was not to express my disapproval, of course. This was merely to get his attention. I dragged him to the doorway of the baggage car. He roared in complaint and tried to return to the current object of his interest. I pulled him back and, placing my face very close to his, roared back: “We stay, and we die!” He looked longingly at what lay on the floor – but, at least, he understood. The immediate blood-lust was ebbing away and now he could hear me above the frenzy of his own ‘thoughts’ (whatever they were). He trusted me, it seemed, and would follow my directions despite his pressing urge to stay and finish his grisly undertaking. The train continued to brake and slow. When it got to a walking pace, we would make a leap for it – hopefully, before we reached the platform and the awkward questions that might await us there. I slid back the door of the baggage car just enough to allow us through. The train got to within a mere 50m of the platform before I judged it safe to jump. I was already grasping David’s slimy paw. We jumped together and landed hard, half on the bluestone ballast and half on the packed clay beside it. I was winded and in pain. I lay there for a few precious seconds, wondering if I had broken anything. David, meantime, was up and about – no sense, no feeling, I suppose. Though I was still in pain in several parts of my body, I could not afford to linger as I saw the train come to a halt in the station. The door of the baggage car was still open. Discovery was at hand. I crawled to my feet and again took David’s hand.

GORSAV MELBOURNE A-GLEDHBARTH. Y’n dydhyow na, Gorsav Melbourne a-gledhbarth o poran byghan. Yn hwir, yth o kepar hag oll an gorsavow erell yn mestrevow Melbourne. Ny via hwath gwellheans rag y wul gorsav komplek gans lies kay a yllir gweles lemmyn. Yth esa warnodho drehevyansow prennek, byghan, usyes hag ankempenn, ow tos yn sur dhiworth an nawnsegves kansblydhen. Yth esens, oll anedha, payntyes yn liw gwyrdh brithek. (Piw re dhewissa towlenn-liw a’n par na rag gorsavow yn Melbourne? Martesen, dewis re via gwrys dres an nessa bresel – kudhliw?) Yn neb kas, ow dewis vy ow honan re via mos dhe orsav mestrevek – yn le dhe Bennorsav yn Stret Spenser (lemmyn henwys “Southern Cross Station”, meur y fasow). Apert o an achesonyow rag an ervirans ma: es y hedhas, nyns esa kekemmys soedhogoleth na bushys. My a vynna entra y’n tren ma, ow mos a- gledhbarth, heb trynn vyth. Byttegyns, kyns ni dhe entra yn park-kerri an orsav, res o hwath dhymm perswadya Davydh dhe omworra y’n eler hag, ena, trogentra fast an gorher anedhi. My a barkyas an karr-les yn stretynn a veyn kons nag esa pellder meur dhiworth an orsav. Unnweyth arta, yth esa edhomm dhymm gul meur a dhynyans – hag ytho moy a dermyn hwath o kellys. Mar fallsen kavoes an tren, res via dhyn gortos dhe’n orsav dres tri our arall – hag ytho gwirhaval a via agan bos diskudhys avel omfugoryon, avel fals- soudoryon yn effeyth, dres oll an termyn na. Dres henna, y fia moy a dus y’n diwettha trenow ha, martesen, an karyach-fardellow a via leun. Rakhenna, res o dhymm bos pur ‘serth’, dell yw leverys, gans Davydh a-dro dhe’y entra y’n eler. Meur y worthter, ev a vedhyglas y’m fas vy yn fordh ow wodros dres eghenn. Hemma a dhifunsa meur a dus esa ow thriga ena marnas, dell heveli, meur a’n dus ma re goedhsa seulabrys avel vyktymow an gordhroglamm zombi – drefenn aga bos ogas dhe gres an pla. Tre annedhys gans denvyth a-der spyrys o Melbourne a-gledhbarth – po ogas. Byttegyns, wor’tiwedh, Davydh a ros assentyans dhe’m hwansow ha krambla y’n eler, hwath ow korwedha yn delergh an karr-les. Ha my dasworrys an gorher, y hyllyn hwath klywyes roghow morethek ow tos dhiworth a-berth y’n eler. “Syns dha glapp, a zombi gokki!” a siis vy. Oll an trosow ow tos dhiworth geler a allsa dri attendyans anvynnys.
NORTH MELBOURNE STATION At that time, North Melbourne train station was a fairly small, in fact, very typical suburban train station. It had not yet undergone the upgrade to a multi- platform complex that we now see and was then dominated by shabby, wooden structures which hearkened back to the 19th century – all painted in a curious dappled green. (Who ever thought of such a colour scheme for Melbourne’s train stations? Maybe it was a wartime thing – camouflage?) In any event, I chose to go to a suburban station rather than the central station at Spencer Street (now grandiosely named “Southern Cross Station”). The reasons were obvious: easier access, less officialdom, smaller crowds. I wanted to slip onto the northbound train with a minimum of fuss. But, before we entered the station carpark, I still needed to get David into the coffin and screw the lid firmly down. I parked the ute in a cobbled back lane, not far from the station. Once again, there was much coaxing required – and still further time lost. If we had missed the train, we would have had to wait at the station for another three hours – and thus have been likely to be exposed as impersonators during all of that time. Furthermore, the later trains would have been more crowded and the baggage car potentially full already. So, I needed to be more than usually, shall we say, ‘firm’ with David over the issue of his getting into the coffin. His resistance reached the point where he roared in my face in his most threatening manner. This would have awoken many of the ‘locals’ except that, it seemed, many of those locals had already fallen victim to the zombie apocalypse, being so close to the epicentre of the plague. North Melbourne was almost a ghost town. Eventually, however, David complied with my wishes and climbed into the coffin, still lying in the back of the ute. As I replaced the lid, I could still hear grunts of unhappiness emanating from within. “Shut up, ya stupid zombie!” I hissed. Noises of any kind coming from inside a coffin were likely to attract unwelcome interest.