Vous avez cherché: i would spend no time to looking back (Anglais - Tagalog)

i had no time to choose
wala akong oras para pumili

i have no time to talk to me
wala akong oras para nakipag usap sayo

i have no time to write to her.
wala akong oras na sulatan siya.

i have no time to hate people who hate me
i have no time to hate people who hate me

no time to each other
no time to each other

there is no time to choose
walang pinipiling panahon

i would like to talk more with you and take the time to get to know you better but my patience is not premium
gusto ko sanang makipag usap pa saiyo at mag laan nang oras para mas makilala kapa pero hindi premium yung gamit ko pasensiya na

most large fish have been fished out of existence since they have no time to reproduce.
karamihan ng malalaking isda ay nahuli na at wala ng buhay dahil wala na silang panahong magpadami.

to be able to move or stand normally i would like to express his special thanks of gratitude towards to the following people who been give a invaluable guidance and contributed their time to the development of the day
tagalog

i thought we would spend a day with you on friday and be able to understand if you are suitable for us and we are for you, we just looked at only 1 candidate, i would like to use the example of 2-3 people and choose
ipakita sa iyo kung saan ang mga kasinungalingan

i'm lyssa katrin j. quianzon who gives my sister permission to mary claire corimo acosta to take care of my pldt connection. because i have a job and have no time to wait thank you and i hope you understand it.
ako si lyssa katrin j. quianzon na nagbibigay permiso sa hipag ko na si mary claire corimo acosta na asikasuhin ang aking pldt connection . dahil ako ay may trabaho at walang oras na magasikaso salamat po at sana maintindihan nyo .

sip your tea nice and slow no one ever knows when it’s time to go, there’ll be no time to enjoy the glow, so sip your tea nice and slow.
sip your tea nice and slow no one ever knows when it 's time to go, there' ll be no time to enjoy the glow, so sip your tea nice and slow.

hello ma'am, thank you very much sa pagconsider ng aking application for facialist. i appreciate your time to interview me and share information about your company. however, i would like to widraw my application for the job.
tagalog

there is no time to be confused. amay inaro to ka et agmo inaro tan amay inarom et agto ka balet inaro.balet antayo no antoy ansaket ed panangaro? amay nampara ya inaro so sakey tan sakey balet aga nayari ya maging sikayo
no maminsan et magulo so panangaro. amay inaro to ka et agmo inaro tan amay inarom et agto ka balet inaro.balet antayo no antoy ansaket ed panangaro? amay nampara ya inaro so sakey tan sakey balet aga nayari ya maging sikayo

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