leun-grysi oor Engels

leun-grysi

Vertalings in die woordeboek Kornies - Engels

fully believe

voorbeelde

/ leun-grysi / / /
fully believe

y leun grysi my a wra.
Fully I believe;

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.
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.

DOKTOUR INGRID “Eus dhis edhomm a dhifresyans-bayn?” An lev ma o dhe Ingrid, kewsys dre doll-wolok y’gan daras. Prest en vy rygdhi – y fia meur a gowses dhymm a-dro dhe’n metyans ma. “Deriv orthymm, ‘Dhoktour,” a worthybis vy. “Fatell yw bos owth oberi gans Doktour Yosef Mengele? Fatell yw bos owth oberi yn Auschwitz yn le Pukkapunyal?” Meur a’y anvodh, hi a dhyenas – yn apert, hi a aswonni bri debel gwaynyes gans an medhyk Natsi, meur y viluster, hag an fordh mayth o gwaynyes an vri na. My a frappsa nervenn wir. Hemma re via ow mynnas vy. Ytho, my a herdhyas kales war an nervenn na. “Deriv orthymm, ‘Dhoktour. Mar na yllydh gorthybi an kwestyon na, ottomma huni arall: p’eur ervirsysta hepkorr dha Li Hippokratek? P’eur ervirsysta bos da lowr ‘gul drokter’?” A-dhesempis, y feu an toll-wolok degeys gans krakk. My a glywas son kammow esa ow kildenna uskis. Omsav: dhymmo vy. Y triga an toll-wolok degeys dres nebes ourys bys pan Ingrid (re omgoselhasa lemmyn, dell heveli) a dhehwelis unnweyth arta. “Eus dhis edhomm a dhifresyans-bayn?” a dhasleveris heb emoesyon. Heb mar, yth esa edhomm anodho. Gans tan hwath o’m kroghen drefenn oll an verkyow goleskys dhe vos kompoesys war ow horf – ha war ow lysyow o hwath pur vrywys ha leun a bayn. (Ny via edhomm vyth a worra an pok-jatel war ow lysyow rag kavoes an gorthyp desiryes dhiworth Davydh. Hemma re via atti pur, drog-gras pur. Yn fordh arall, drefenn y vos mar gowal gans an pok-jatel war dhiwgell Davydh, ev a grysi martesen bos edhomm dhodho a vos heb faverans vyth a-dro dhe’n mater ma. Hmmmpf!) My a erviras my dhe alloes gorra a-denewen ow gwariow-brys bys pan dhegemmersen an difresyans a vynnsen dres nebes ourys. Yn despit dhe hemma, my a assayas trufelhe ow kodhevyans: “Eus, dell hwer. Aspro po dew a via dynnerghys,” yn-medhav, pur hweg ow thon.
DOCTOR INGRID “Are you in need of pain relief?” The voice was that of Ingrid, through the peephole of our cell door. I was ready for her – I had given this meeting some thought. “Tell me, doctor,” I replied. “What’s it like working with Doctor Josef Mengele? What’s it like working in Auschwitz instead of Puckapunyal?” She gasped involuntarily – evidently, she knew of the evil reputation of the bestial Nazi doctor and how that reputation had been earned. I had struck a real nerve. I had intended to. So, I pushed hard on that nerve. “Tell me, doctor. If you can’t answer that question, what about this one: when did you decide to renounce your Hippocratic Oath? When did you decide it was okay to ‘do harm’?” The peephole was abruptly snapped shut. I heard the sound of rapidly retreating footsteps. Advantage: me. The peephole stayed shut for some hours until Ingrid (who had apparently now composed herself) returned once again. “Are you in need of pain relief?” she repeated without emotion. Of course, I was. My skin was still on fire from all the scorch marks inflicted upon my body – and my genitals were very bruised and achy. (There had been no need to put the cattle-prod in my groin to get the desired reaction from David – this had been pure malice, pure payback. Then again, as he’d been so thorough in applying the prod to David’s testes, he probably just thought he needed to be completely even-handed about the matter. Hmmmph!) I decided I could put my mind games to one side until I had gotten the relief I’d been craving for some hours. Even so, I tried to make light of my suffering: “Yes, as it happens, an Aspro or two would be most welcome,” I said, as sweetly as I could.