| Manx | English | |
|---|---|---|
| Cre’n aght ta dy chree? | How is your heart? | |
| Va ben seyr Sostnagh va er ve çhing ny hoie[1] ec dorrys thie beg ayns ny sleityn Bretnagh gys yinnagh ee coural. Ren ee jeeaghyn seose voish yn lioar v’ee lhaih er inneen veg va goll shaghey. Agh jeeaghyn dy geyre urree myr v’ee goll “Cre’n aght ta dty chree?” dooyrt yn inneen ayns Cymraeg. Ren yn ven seyr geamagh er yn lanladee dy insh jee c’red va’n inneen veg gra. | There was an English lady, who had been ill, seated at the door of a small house in the Welsh mountains until she would recover. She looked up from the book she was reading, to a small girl who was going past. However, whilst staring at her as she was going past “How is your heart?” the girl said in Welsh. The lady called the landlady to tell her what the little girl was saying. | |
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[1] ny hoie] in late 19th C Manx this type of construction was not conjugated as in Classical Manx — the third person singular was used for all persons.
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| Dooyrt ee, “Shen yn aght t’ad briaght ‘Kys ta shiu?’ ayns yn çheer shoh; ‘Cre’n aght ta dty chree?’ Cha vod Nannie Powal taggloo Baarle agh t’ee lhiannoo feer vie ny-yeih.” | She said, “That’s the way they ask ‘How are you?’ in this country; ‘How is your heart?’ Nannie Powell may speak English but she’s a very good child nevertheless.” | |
| Ghow yn ven seyr toshiaght dy smooinaght. Va goan yn inneen veg er leeideil ee dy ronsagh yn cree eck hene, stayd dy aigney v’ee dy kinjagh coyrt ass e smooinaghtyn. Agh v’ee annoon liorish yn çhingys. Yn oie shen ren ee dreamal jeh’n lhiannoo aalin as ayns e dreamal va sooillyn yn lhiannoo lane dy hymmey myr ren ee briaght “C’ren aght ta’n cree eu?” | The lady started to think. The words of the little girl had led her to search her own heart, a state of mind she was always putting out of her thoughts. But she was weak because of the illness. That night she dreamt of the beautiful child and in her dream the eyes of the child were full of compassion as she asked “How is your heart?” | |
| Va’n nah laa feer fliugh as sterrymagh as v’ee eginit dy uirraght sy thie. V’ee jeeaghyn as ronsaghey fud shartanse dy henn lioaryn v’ayns yn ard-shamyr ayns yn thie as v’ad ooilley feer shenn as fritlagh as printit ayns y çhenn fashyn. Tra v’ee coyrt ad reesht ayns ny moayl hene[2] ren cowrey beg tuittym ass eddyr ny duillagyn. Ren ee troggal eh as v’eh er ve obbyrit er ny focklyn “Cur d’ou dty chree”. Haink ee dy ve seaghnit myr ren ee çhyndaa voish ny lioaryn, eisht ren ee bwoailley yn chiaullane. | The next day was very wet and stormy and she had to stay in the house. She was looking and searching through some old books that were in the living room in the house and they were all very old and ragged and printed in the old fashion. When she was putting them back in their place a small mark fell from between the pages. She picked it up and it had been worked upon (with) the words; “Give me your heart”. She became sorrowful as she turned from the books, then she rang the handbell. | |
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[2] ny moayl hene] nyn moayl hene — ‘their own place’.
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| Haink yn ven thie kione feanish, “Vel red erbee eu foddym lhaih?” dooyrt ee. | The landlady appeared, “Do you have anything I can read?” she said. | |
| “Cha vel ain agh ny shenn lioaryn shoh,” dooyrt y ven thie, “cha vel tra ain son lhaih.” | “We only have these old books,” said the landlady, “we don’t have time for reading.” | |
| “Ta shiu smooinaghtyn mennick mysh nyn ghree.” dooyrt ee rish yn ven thie ayns yindys. | “You often think about your hearts.” she said to the land lady in wonder. | |
| “Cha vel fys ayms dy vel shin smooinaght orroo eddyr. Ta paart jin er chur ad da Chreest dy chummal ad, ta yn raad sauçhey,” dooyrt ee myr v’ee faagail yn çhamyr, “myr nee shiu goaill my leshtal.” | “I don’t know that we think about them at all. Some of us have given them to Christ to keep, which is the safest way,” she said as she left the room, “if you will excuse me.” | |
| V’ee smooinaght er yn ven seyr voght; “Ta mee goaill yindys c’red v’ee shirrey er-e-hon, as te feer licklee nagh jean ee toiggal shen ny dooyrt mish ree.” | She was thinking about the poor lady; “I wonder what she is looking for, and it’s likely she won’t understand what I said to her.” | |
| Laa ny vairagh va feer aalin as yn ghrian soilshean dy gloyroil. Ren yn ven seyr soie ec yn dorrys reesht. Haink Nannie Veg Powel shaghey as dooyrt reesht “Cre’n aght ta’n cree eu?” | The next day was really fine and the sun was shining gloriously. The lady sat at the door again. Little Nannie Powell came past and said again “How is your heart?” | |
| Haink caghlaaghyn dy sleih shaghey yn laa shen as v’ad ooilley gra “C’ren aght t’an cree ayd?” rish yn ven thie. | A number of different people came past that day and they were all saying “How is your heart?” to the lady. | |
| “T’eh lane dy hee booise eu,” v’ee gra. | “It is full of peace, thank you,” she said. | |
| Ooilley shoh ren yn ven seyr scrieu gys carrey yn laa shen. As laghyn lurg shen, tra haink ansoor voish e carrey ren ee lhaih myr shoh: | The lady wrote all this to a friend that day. And days after that, when an answer came from her friend it read like this; | |
| “Haink yn screeunyn eu myr çhaghteraght gys my chree, as honnick mee cre choud as va mee er shaghyrn voish Jee, as kys va mee er ve shirrey son aash as shee, ayns reddyn yn seihll nagh vod dy bragh jannoo shin magh. Agh nish ta my chree lane dy hee booise da Jee as dhyts er-e-hon. As nish my charrey deyr c’ren agh ta cree yn lhaihder?” | “Your letter came as a message to my heart, and I saw how far I have been astray from God, and how I had been searching for rest and peace in worldly things that can never satisfy us. But now my heart is full of peace thanks to God and to you. And now my dear friend; How is the heart of the reader?” | |
| As nish v’eh urree dy ansoor. “Cre ta my vioys?” dooyrt ee ree hene, “dy ve treinit sheese gys yn thalloo, as ayns çhingys hrome, va’n ard yerkal[3] ayns my chree dy coural reesht er coontey my Voir. Cre dy beign er gheddyn baase?” | And now she had to answer. “How is my life?” she said to herself. “To be pinned down to the land, and seriously ill, the great hope in my heart was to recover again on account of my mother. What if I had died?” | |
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[3] Jerkal] ‘expectation’, but ‘hope’ in collloquial usage.
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| Kione shiaghtin ren ee gansoor screeunyn y charrey. | After a week she answered the friend’s letter. | |
| “Lhig dooin cur booise da Jee cooidjagh, son ta mish neesht er gheddyn fea ayns my chree. Ta mee er choural dy mie, as ta mee goll dy valley. Ta mee treishteil dy laboragh da my Hiarn as Saualtagh.” | “Let us give thanks to God together, for I have now found calm in my heart. I have recovered well, and I am going home. I hope to work for my Lord and Saviour.’ | |
| Red beg dy laghyn ny lurg shen, haink Bible noa feer aalin gys Nannie Powel voish Lunnin. V’ee goaill lane yindys cre hon v’ee currit. Ren yn ven thie ginsh jee dy row ee er ve currit ec yn ven seyr son briaght jee dy chooilley laa cre’n aght va’n cree eck. | A few days after that, a new, very beautiful, Bible came to Nannie Powell from London. She was wondering very much why it was sent. The landlady told her that it had been sent by the lady for asking her how her heart was every day. | |
| “Son shen?” dooyrt Nannie. “Shegin jee ve feer verçhagh!” | “For that?” said Nannie, “She must be very rich.” | |
| “Ta.” dooyrt yn ven. “T’ee ny s’berçhagh na tra haink ee gys shoh, son ren ee jeeaghyn çheusthie as fakin dy row ee follym, isht ren ee çhyndaa gys Jee as geddyn yn verçhys follit. Lhaih ny goan shoh ayns Cymraeg t’ayns dty Vible.” | “Yes.” Said the landlady, she is richer than she was when she came here, because she looked inside and saw that she was empty, then she turned to God and found the hidden wealth. Read these words in Welsh that are in your Bible.” | |
| As ren Nannie lhaih fo yn ennym eck; “Cre’n aght ta dty chree?” | And Nannie read under her name; “How is your heart?” | |
| Scruit yn whiggoo laa as feed jeh yn ched vee dy arragh ayns yn vlein nee cheead yeig as unnane, liorish Edwd Faragher, Crenaish. | Written on the twenty-fifth of February, in the year nineteen hundred and one, by Edward Faragher, Cregneash. | |