Day Hundred and Ninety

An Cansves Dedh Deg ha Pajer Ügens

De Meurth ew, an degves dedh a vis Gorefan.

It’s Tuesday, the tenth day of July.

Na vedh genam lies avel e’n vledhen ma. Rag fra na? (Prag na?) Na veu lies flour war an wedhen vy e’n gwenton ha nag eus gwenen lowr e’n vledhen ma. Nag eus glaw lowr e’n hav ma dhe whedhy an frûtys. Ha me a welas lader hedhyw vettin e’n scorrow. Thera an del o kerna ha nena dew aval a godhas dhe’n dor. Bran a neyjas dhe ves gen üdn aval, bes piw ew an lader? Edhen aral ew – jannik teg, brîth y skelly gen blou spladn. A wra ev doas arta avorow? Martesen. Na ora vy.

I won’t have many apples this year. Why not? There weren’t many flowers on my tree in the spring and there aren’t enough bees this year. There isn’t enough rain this summer to swell the fruits.  And I saw a thief this morning in the branches. The leaves were shaking and then two apples fell down. A rook flew away with one apple, but who is the thief? It’s another bird – a beautiful jay with wings striped bright blue. Will it come again tomorrow? Perhaps. I don’t know.