Day Hundred and Ninety-six


Cansves Dedh Whetek ha Pajer Ügens

De Lün ew, an whehdegves dedh a vis Gorefan.
It’s Monday, the sixteenth day of July.
Skith o vy lebmyn. “Mabm Wydn, gwag o vy.” “Mabm Wydn, me a venja pobas, me a vedn gwil tesednow bian.” “Eus dehen rew dhis?” “Ellesta gwil bara scrawys raga vy?” “Sehes ema dhebm. Me vedn cawas badna dowr.” “Me ell devenya o losow o honan, dhe wül cowl.” “Me a vedn cawas an lever na!” “O lever vy ew hebma!” “A Vabm Wydn, Indy a wrüg o gweskel!” “Me a vedn moas tre! Pe eur a wra Mabm doas?”
I’m tired now. “Granny, I’m hungry.” “Granny, I’d like to bake, I want to make buns.” “Have you got any ice cream?” “Can you make me some toast?” “I’m thirsty. I want to have a drink of water.” “I can chop my vegetables myself, to make soup.” “I want that book!” “This is my book!” “Oh, Granny, Indy hit me!” “I want to go home! What time will Mum come?”

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