Vous avez cherché: please vote for the server you wanted to play (Anglais - Tagalog)

please vote for the time
boto para sa oras

please vote for me
iboto nyo ako

remember what you wanted to be
remember what you wanted to be

why do you wanted to join this group
para makahanap ng bahay

i thought that was what you wanted to say
kung ano ang gusto mong sabihin

did you reach what you wanted to happen to your expectations
naabot mo ba ang nais mong mangyari sa iyong inaasahan

but can you get a condoms and a game card for the kids to play
but can you get a condoms and a game card for the kids to play

thank you for the unique gift that you have chosen for me. just wanted to say a heartfelt thank you for this amazing gift.
thank you for the unique gift that you have chosen for me. just wanted to say a heartfelt thank you for this amazing gift.

thank you for the time being i did not love you again i felt it was the case wrong on the amount of time i wanted to like you because it was still wrong
salamat pala kasi sa tagal na di ako nagmahal sayo ko lng ulit naramdaman ito kaso mali sa dami dami ng pwedi kong magustuhan mali pa na ikaw kasi bawal

i just wanted to say goodbye to goodbye to you you for the last time
nais ko lang magpaalam sa iyo para sa huling pagkakataon

also i really wanted to learn how to play any instrument but even if i try i still don't know how to play it
i really wanted to learn how to play any instrument but even if i try i still don 't know how to play it

because i was just a kid, i wanted to have a hello kitty house because that's what i used to want to play
dahil batang bata pa lang po ako ay gustong gusto ko na magkabahay ng hello kitty dahil yan ang gustong kung laruin dati

it all just sounds like ooh, ooh, ooh, hoo mm, too young, too dumb to realize that i should have bought you flowers and held your hand should have gave you all my hours when i had the chance take you to every party 'cause all you wanted to do was dance
it all sounds like ooh, ooh, ooh, hoo mm, too young, too dumb to realize that i should have bought you flowers and held your hand should have gave you all my hours when i had the chance take you to every party 'cause all you wanted to do was dance

you were looking at me like you wanted to stay when i saw you yesterday i'm not wasting your time, i'm not playing no games i see you.
ngunit hindi mo ako pinutol

but when ruby rose was in the netherlands, she just wanted to work to save and pay for the money that her father cheated on the man who burned down their house. it is true that his aunt garet was looking for a maid and she was the one who let him in. what ruby rose doesn't know is that being her boss is still the reason why she and her father split up.
ngunit nang nasa holand na si ruby rose ay nais niya na lamang na magtrabaho para makapag ipon at mabayaran ang pera na niloko ng kaniyang ama sa lalaking nagpasunog ng kanilang bahay. sakto naman na naghahanap ng katulong ang inalagaan ng kaniyang tita garet at siya ang pinapasok nito. ang hindi alam ni ruby rose ay ang kaniyang maging amo ay siya pa lang dahilan kung bakit nagkalayo silang mag ama.

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