Usted buscó: i saw it, it was surrounded by clouds (Inglés - Tagalo)

i saw that it was stolen
nakita ko na ninakaw ng kapatid ko ang pera ng aming nanay

i saw it
nakita ko

i saw it yesterday
nakita kita kahapon

i saw it thank you
ikaw ay isang malikot na babae

i saw it in my dream
nakita ko ito sa panaginip ko

i saw it in the ig story
nakita ko ito sa ig story

i was so shocked when i saw it
i was so shocked when i saw you

i saw it first, didn't i?
nakita muna ako di ba knina

ahahhahaha ..... i really miss it ... it was not because i was happy ... ahaha
nami sa imo dong ba

walls of insincerity, shifting eyes and vacancy vanished when i saw your face all i can say is, it was enchanting to meet you
walls of insincerity, shifting eyes and vacancy vanished when i saw your face all i can say is, it was enchanting to meet you

as soon as i got to ibajay, i saw someone dead; i just waved at him, it was worse in the middle of the night.
pag agto ko sa ibajay, may hakita ako nga patay; ginbagting ko ra eagay, mas mabaskog pa sa lingganay.

before i always wondered what it was like to be loved and treated right, and now i finally have it. it feels strange na i met someone na kapareho ko ng ugali
before i always wondered what it was like to be loved and treated right, and now i finally have it. it feels strange when you meet the person who will change your life.

it was glistening like a sea urchin surrounded by all kinds of pearls. its exterior is shiny. the inside is solid as you think of a concrete foundation. the object can be used as an aid to deciphering the list and the human body.
makislap na animo'y hinugot sa pusod ng dagat na nabudburan ng lahat ng uri ng mga perlas. makintab ang panlabas na anyo nito. solido naman ang panloob na akala mong isang kongkreong pundasyon. nagagamit ang bagay na bilang pantulong upang mahubad ang lisya at dui ng katawang tao.

he told me what happened to deepwell4 why it didn't work, i immediately accompanied him to deepwell4 to see what happened. i looked at the main panel board first i saw it tripped off. after that i activated deepweel4 again and i monitored there just to keep an eye on it
sinabihan nya ako kung anong nangyari sa deepweel4 bakit hindi gumagana , agad ko naman siya sinamahan doon sa deepwell4 para tingnan ang nangyari . tiningnan ko muna ang main panel board nakita ko ito na naka trip off . pag katapos in activate ko ulit ang deepweel4 at ito ay gumana na ang kanyang motor pump

throughout the entire pandemic, we hear so much about how people are suffering, how people are struggling. but there is also a good side of our lives, those moments were we can see the beauty in life and show the other side that we’re not ruined by this virus. for example, i saw it when i made friendship between different countries or different people during
throughout the entire pandemic, we hear so much about how people are suffering, how people are struggling. but there is also a good side of our lives, those moments were we can see the beauty in life and show the other side that we’re not ruined by this virus. for example, i saw it when i made friendship between different countries or different people during #flavorsoftheantidote event

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