Results for im sory if i waited you so long translation from English to Tagalog

im sory if i waited you so long
ipagpaumanhin mo ung pinaghintay kita ng matagal

sorry if i waited for you
sorry kung nainis kita

im waiting for you so long
what happen to my withdrawal.? i have been waiting for a long time.

what took you so long.
ang tagal mo.

sorry if i took so long to reply to you
sorry kung matagal ako maka reply sayo ha

what took you so long? tagalog
𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘴𝘨𝘴

it took you so long to online
it took you so long to online

if i told i'm tallen to u i dont like you so
if i told you i 'm tallen to u i dont like you so

i'm sorry if i hurt you but i miss you so much for my good and i miss you so much
sorry kung nasaktan kita pero kaylangan kita layuan para sa kakabuti ko at dina ako mag seselos sainyo

i'm sorry if i always get mad at you for no reason because i just love you so much
patawad kung lagi ako nagagalit saiyo ng walang dahilan sobra lang kasi kita kamahal

we haven't seen each other in so long... miss you so much
we haven't seen each other in so long... miss you so much

i'm sorry if i can't get in now. i feel bad. i'm feverish and coughing. thank you so much.
sorry kung hindi ako makakapasok sa trabaho ngayon. masama kasi ang pakiramdam ko. nilalagnat at inuubo ako. maraming salamat.

i try that so you lab don't cry because it's not just if i take your laban i'll help you so you can't be hard for one two
i try na kaya nimu lab ayw pag bitaw kay dili ra kung ikw ang mo laban tabagan ko kaw para dili kaw malisud para satu duha

i'm sorry if i took a long time to reply to you so you looked for someone else but i made the right decision not to answer you because i guess i'm right that you are not the man who can wait no matter how long you seem to feel like you used to waste
sorry kung matagal ako mag reply sayo kaya naghanap ka nang iba pero tama den pala desisyon ko na hindi ka sagutin kase tama yung kutob ko na di ka yung lalaking kayang mag hintay kahit gano ka tagal tas parang pinaramdam mo kase saken dati basura

i love johnny orlando since 2016 and i like the songs especially the what if with mackenzie and his new song that i like now is blur, and also i love johnny not only because he sang well and also because of who and how good he is. his fans. johnny is my first love and my first idol, i longed to be here in the philippines and my dream came true because i waited so long and because i wanted to see him
i love johnny orlando since 2016 and i like the songs especially the what if with mackenzie and his new song that i like now is blur, and also i love johnny not only because magaling siyang kumanta at dahil din sa kung sino at kung gaano siya kagaling . kanyang mga tagahanga. si johnny ang first love ko at first idol ko, matagal ko ng pinangarap na makapunta dito sa pilipinas at natupad ang pangarap ko dahil naghintay ako ng matagal at dahil gusto ko siyang makita

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