Results for i'm gonna sleep early as i want translation from English to Tagalog

i'm gonna sleep
i 'm gonna sleep

as much as i want to
kung gaano nyo ka gusto

as much as i want to tell you
gustong humigit

as i open my eyes every morning, all i want is to see you
umuulan man o umaaraw

when i was in elementary school, i dreamed of becoming a doctor to help people who were sick but as i grew up and came to the city where i see many planes in the air my dream of becoming a good physician is now i want to be a flight attendant. but when i graduated grade 12 i was undecided on the course i would choose because my parents wanted me to go nursing.
noong ako’y nasa elementarya pa lamang, pinapangarap kong maging isang doctor para makatulong sa mga taong may sakit subalit sa aking paglaki at nakapunta sa syudad kung saan may marami akong nakikitang eroplanong nasa himpapawid ang aking pangarap na maging isang magaling na manggagamot ay ngayon gusto kong matupad na maging flight attendant. pero noong naka graduate na ako ng grade 12 ay nagging undecided ako sa kursong aking pipiliin dahil ang gusto ng aking mga magulang ay mag nursing ako

due to the inability to have time for myself, and at some point i was discouraged to do things, as i lost the motivation to fight because there's to much work for me to do. as time pass by, little by little i started to adjust since i grew tired of being so stressed all the time and also i want that when i go back to time and recall my experience in this distance learning i can also have some joyful memories to luagh at and share with others.
dahil sa kawalan ng kakayahang magkaroon ng oras para sa aking sarili, at sa ilang mga punto ay hindi ako pinanghinaan ng loob na gawin ang mga bagay, dahil nawala ang pagganyak na makipaglaban sapagkat maraming gawain ang dapat kong gawin. tulad ng pagdaan ng oras, unti-unti nagsimula akong ayusin mula nang napagod ako sa sobrang pagka-stress sa lahat ng oras at gusto ko rin na kapag bumalik ako sa oras at naaalala ang aking karanasan sa pag-aaral na ito sa malayo maaari din akong magkaroon ng ilang mga masasayang alaala luagh at at ibahagi sa iba.

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