pohodowm

OW MOS DHE'N TRETH	GOIN' BEACH
Pol Hodge	trans. Pol Hodge (from Cornish)
Mar pes ta re doemm ty a wre mos y’n mor. Mar pes ta re yeyn ty a wre omhowla tamm. Ni eth dhe neuvya nevra dhe vordardha. Ha ni a wre dri pasti gwrys gans mamm, na prena 'Ginsters'* korrdonnys yn café. Ha nyns esa edhomm rag an kystyow atal; ni oll a gemmeras agan strol ni tre. Nyns esa tros heb penn a'n arkadyow a-dryv po an jynnow ebrenn Ferdi Flambards** a-ugh po skathow tan byghan po kertow dyenn-rew... Y'n kessenyans a drethow yma saw ton mordonnow ha geryow gans an gwynsow. * ‘Ginsters’ a wra an brassa niver a bastiow yn oll an bys. ** Ferdi Flambards yw arwoedh neb a skoedh Flambards Theme Park ogas dhe Hellys.	If 'ee woz too 'ot you went in the sea. If 'ee woz too cold you would sunbathe a bit. We went swimmin' never went surfin' An' we use bring a pasty made by mawther, not buy a 'Ginsters' microwaved in a caff. An' ther woz no need for all they litter bins; we 'ol took our rubbish 'ome. Ther wudn' endless noyz of they arcades behind us or they air planes a Ferdi Flambards up above or they lil' mawter boats or ice cream vans... In the harmony of beaches there is only a tune of seawaves and words by the winds.