Sie suchten nach: how can i put on such distress as long as ... (Englisch - Tagalog)

as long as i'm here
as long as i'm here

as long as i'm beautiful
ang ganda ko sobra

as long as i'm down early
habang tumatagal nahuhulog na ako sa kanya

as long as i'm happy with you
basta masaya ako sayo

just be careful as long as i'm here
wala naman nagpapaalala lang

as long as i'm doing everything for him
ginagawa ko ang lahat para maging karapat-dapat sayo.

whatever they say to me as long as i'm true
kong ano man ang sabihin nila sakin basta totoo ako

as long as i'm in the right i'll fight
lalaban ng basta basta

judge me all you want, i don't care as long as i'm alive on my own
judge me all you want, i don't care as long as i'm alive on my own

actually i came here to talk to you about something else but as long as i'm here...
nandito ako para kausapin ka tungkol sa isang bagay. tutal, nandito na rin lang ako...

just because jeya is hard to put on as long as it looks like it
tungod lang kay lisod putlon si jeya basta ingon ana

as long as i'm here, you'll always have someone who's proud of you in everything
hangga't nandito ako, lagi kang may isang taong ipagmamalaki ka sa lahat ng bagay

i have not chosen a man to love even not as handsome as long as i'm happy and i can not force you or teach my heart who i love
hindi ako mapili sa isang taong mamahalin ko kahit hindi man kasing gwapo basta masaya ako at hindi niyo ako mapipilit o turuan ang puso ko kung sino ang mamahalin ko

oks just even if you don't talk to me as long as i'm just here on the side waiting even if you don't need me i'm always here ha
ayos lang sakin no kahit di mo ako kausapin basta nandito lang ako sa gilid nag hihintay kahit di moko kailangan dito lang ako palagi ha

@jamesoxford845:i will reach my dream as long as i can..i will do everything just to achieve my dream
aabutin ko ang mga pangarap ko dahil

a low art [excerpt from the penelopiad] by margaret atwood (canada) now that i’m dead i know everything. this is what i wished would happen, but like so many of my wishes it failed to come true. i know only a few factoids that i didn’t know before. death is much too high a price to pay for the satisfaction of curiosity, needless to say. since being dead — since achieving this state of bonelessness, liplessness, breastlessness —i’ve learned some things i would rather not know, as one does when listening at windows or opening ot her people’s letters. you think you’d like to read minds? think again. down here everyone arrives with a sack, like the sacks used to keep the winds in, but each of these sacks is full of words —words you’ve spoken, words you’ve heard, wo rds that have been said about you. some sacks are very small, others large; my own is of a reasonable size, though a lot of the words in it concern my eminent husband. what a fool he made of me, some say. it was a specialty of his: making fools. he got away with everything, which was another of his specialties: getting away. he was always so plausible. many people have believed that his version of events was the true one, give or take a few murders, a few beautiful seductresses, a few one-eyed monsters. even i believed him, from time to time. i knew he was tricky and a liar, i just didn’t think he would play his tricks and try out his lies on me. hadn’t i been faithful? hadn’t i waited, and waited, and waited, despite the temptation — almost the compulsion — to do otherwise? and what did i amount to, once the official version gained ground? an edifying legend. a stick used to beat other women with. why couldn’t they be as considerate, as trustworthy, as all-suffering as i had been? that was the line they took, the singers, the yarn- spinners. don’t follow my example, i want to scream in your ears — yes, yours! but when i try to scream, i sound like an owl. of course i had inklings, about his slipperiness, his wiliness, his foxiness, his — how can i put this? — his unscrupulousness, but i turned a blind eye. i kept my mouth shut; or if i opened it, i sang his praises. i didn’t contradict, i didn’t ask awkward questions, i didn’t dig deep. i wanted happy endings in those days, and happy endings are best achieved by keeping the right doors locked and going to sleep during the rampages. but after the main events were over and things had become less legendary, i realised how many people were laughing at me behind my back — how they were jeering, making jokes about me, jokes both clean and dirty; how they were turning me into a story, or into several stories, though not the kind of stories i’d prefer to hear about m yself. what can a woman do when scandalous gossip travels the world? if she defends herself she sounds guilty. so i waited some more. now that all the others have run out of air, it’s my t urn to do a little storymaking. i owe it to myself. i’ve had to work myself up to it: it’s a low art, tale-telling. old women go in for it, strolling beggars, blind singers, maidservants, children — folks with time on their hands. once, people would have laughed if i’d tried to play th e minstrel —there’s nothing more preposterous than an aristocrat fumbling around with the arts — but who cares about public opinion now? the opinion of the people down here: the opinions of shadows, of echoes. so i’ll spin a thread of my own.
isang mababang kwento ng sining sa tagalog