Hai cercato la traduzione di trace and write da Inglese a Bengalese

be courageous and write your real name
সাহসী হউন, নিজের প্রকৃত নাম লিখুন

not all language is something we speak and write of course.
আমরা যে সব ভাষায় কথা বলি এবং লিখি অবশ্যি তার সবটাই সবকিছু নয়।

others would also sit down and write something for a student in iran.
অন্যরা হয়তো বসে ইরানের আর একজন ছাত্রের জন্য কিছু লিখবেন।

online or offline the languages we speak and write say a lot about who we are.
অনলাইনে বা অফলাইন যেখানে হোক না কেন, আমরা যে ভাষায় কথা বলি এবং লেখি, তা আমাদের সম্বন্ধে অনেক কিছু বলে থাকে।

and mohamed chimes in and writes:
আর মোহাম্মাদ অনুরূপ ভাবে বলছেন:

chillnite goes to the kuwait aquarium and writes:
চিলনাইট কুয়েত একুয়ারিয়াম ঘুরে আসার পর লিখছে:

- speak and write english fluently, and be highly proficient in at least one other language; polyglot speakers highly desirable!
-ইংরেজীতে কথা বলা ও লেখায় দক্ষ হতে হবে এবং মাতৃভাষা ও ইংরেজী ভিন্ন, অন্য কোন এক ভাষা তার ভালোভাবে আয়ত্বে থাকতে হবে, বহুভাষী ব্যক্তিকে এই কাজের জন্য অনেক যোগ্য বলে বিবেচনা করা হবে! আগ্রহী প্রার্থীকে একটি দরখাস্তসহ জীবন বৃত্তান্ত দিতে বলা হচ্ছে।

containment is undertaken in the early stages of the outbreak and aims to trace and isolate those infected as well as introduce other measures of infection control and vaccinations to stop the disease from spreading to the rest of the population.
প্রাদুর্ভাবের প্রাথমিক পর্যায়গুলিতে দমনের ব্যবস্থা করা হয়, এবং অবশিষ্ট জনসমষ্টির মধ্যে রোগটি ছড়িয়ে পড়া বন্ধ করার জন্য সংক্রামিত মানুষদের খুঁজে বের করা ও আলাদা করা ছাড়াও সংক্রমণ নিয়ন্ত্রণের অন্যান্য ব্যবস্থার সূচনা করা ও টিকাকরণের লক্ষ্য রাখে।

for the diagnosis of “suspected case” and “confirmed case”, we suggest to trace and obey the newest guidelines of their home countries.
“আক্রান্ত হয়েছে বলে ধারণা করা” এবং “নিশ্চিত আক্রান্ত” নির্ণয় করার জন্য, আমরা তাদের চিহ্নিত করা এবং নিজেদের দেশের একদম সাম্প্রতিকতম নির্দেশনা অনুসরণ করার পরামর্শ দিচ্ছি।

display retraced stack traces and ask for confirmation before sending them to the crash database.
ক্র্যাশ ডাটাবেসে পাঠানোর আগে পুনরায় চিহ্নিত স্ট্যাক চিহ্ন প্রদর্শন এবং নিশ্চিতকরণের জন্য জিজ্ঞাসা করা হবে।

nesvan recalls the iran-iraq war in the 1980s, and writes:
নেসভান ১৯৮০-এর দশকের ইরাক-ইরান যুদ্ধের কথা স্মরণ করেছেন এবং লিখেছেন :

and speaking of theories, jordan reform watch also has something up his sleeve and writes:
যদি তত্ত্বের কথা বলা হয়, তাহলে জর্ডান রিফরমার ওয়াচ তার হাতায় কিছু রেখেছেন এবং লিখেছেন:

a few years back it was unthinkable that a mobile phone would become a common commodity item for most of the population; that even people below the poverty line would be able to buy mobile phones, learn to call and receive calls, even learn to read and write a few smss.
কিভাবে ফোনে কথা বলতে হয়, তাও জানে। ক্ষুদে বার্তা পড়তে এবং লিখতেও জানে। মোবাইল ফোনের ব্যবহার বাড়ায়, এবং দেশের বিস্তৃত অঞ্চলে নেটওয়ার্ক কাভারেজ থাকায় দেশের বেশিরভাগ মানুষের কাছে এর মাধ্যমে পৌঁছানো সম্ভবপর হয়েছে।

are you from a place where your mother tongue is not widely spoken? then you may be a part of large number of people around the world who speak and write "under-represented languages".
আপনি কি এমন কোন স্থানের বাসিন্দা যেখানকার বেশীর ভাগ নাগরিক আপনার মাতৃভাষা কথা বলে না, তাহলে আপনি বিশ্বের এমন এক বিশাল জনগোষ্ঠীর অংশ, যারা কথা বলে বা লিখে “কম- প্রতিনিধিত্বশীল জনগোষ্ঠীর ভাষায়”।

david widgington of south sudan info links to online videos about the referendum and writes kenya pre-referendum information:
সাউথ সুদান ইনফো লিঙ্কসের ডেভিড উইডজিংটন গণভোট সংক্রান্ত এক ভিডিওর লিঙ্ক যুক্ত করেছে এবং কেনিয়ার প্রাক গণভোট সংক্রান্ত তথ্য সংগ্রহের বিষয়ে লিখেছেন:

was still a thief when i met romi. and though i was only fifteen years old, i was an experienced and fairly successful hand. romi was watching a wrestling match when i approached him. he was about twenty-five and he looked easygoing, kind, and simple enough for my purpose. i was sure i would be able to win the young man’s confidence. “you look a bit of a wrestler yourself,” i said. there’s nothing like flattery to break the ice! “so do you,” he replied, which put me off for a moment because at that time i was rather thin and boney. “well,” i said modestly, “i do wrestle a bit.” “what’s your name?” “hari singh,” i lied. i took a new name every month, which kept me ahead of the police and former employers. after these formalities romi confined himself to commenting on the wrestlers, who were grunting, gasping, and heaving each other about. when he walked away, i followed him casually. “hello again,” he said. i gave him my most appealing smile. “i want to work for you,” i said. “but i can’t pay you anything—not for some time, anyway.” i thought that over for a minute. perhaps i had misjudged my man. “can you feed me?” i asked. “can you cook?” “i can cook,” i lied again. “if you can cook, then maybe i can feed you.” he took me to his room over the delhi sweet shop and told me i could sleep on the balcony. but the meal i cooked that night must have been terrible because romi gave it to a stray dog and told me to be off. but i just hung around, smiling in my most appealing way, and he couldn’t help laughing. later, he said never mind, he’d teach me to cook. he also taught me to write my name and said he would soon teach me to write whole sentences and to add figures. i was grateful. i knew that once i could write like an educated person, there would be no limit to what i could achieve. it was quite pleasant working for romi. i made tea in the morning and then took my time buying the day’s supplies, usually making a profit of two or three rupees. i think he knew i made a little money this way, but he didn’t seem to mind. romi made money by fits and starts. he would borrow one week, lend the next. he kept worrying about his next check, but as soon as it arrived he would go out and celebrate. he wrote for the delhi and bombay magazines: a strange way to make a living. one evening he came home with a small bundle of notes, saying he had just sold a book to a publisher. that night i saw him put the money in an envelope and tuck it under the mattress. i had been working for romi for almost a month and, apart from the cheating on the shopping, had not done anything in my real line of work. i had every opportunity for doing so. i could come and go as i pleased, and romi was the most trusting person i had ever met. that was why it was so difficult to rob him. it was easy for me to rob a greedy man. but robbing a nice man could be a problem. and if he doesn’t notice he’s being robbed, then all the spice goes out of the undertaking? well, it’s time i got down to some real work, i told myself. if i don’t take the money, he’ll only waste it on his so-called friends. after all, he doesn’t even give me a salary. romi was sleeping peacefully. a beam of moonlight reached over the balcony and fell on his bed. i sat on the floor, considering the situation. if i took the money, i could catch the 10:30 express to lucknow. slipping out of my blanket, i crept over to the bed. my hand slid under the mattress, searching for the notes. when i found the packet, i drew it out without a sound. romi sighed in his sleep and turned on his side. startled, i moved quickly out of the room. once on the road, i began to run. i had the money stuffed into a vest pocket under my shirt. when i’d gotten some distance from romi’s place, i slowed to a walk and, taking the envelope from my pocket, counted the money. seven hundred rupees in fifties. i could live like a prince for a week or two! when i reached the station, i did not stop at the ticket office (i had never bought a ticket in my life) but dashed straight to the platform. the lucknow express was just moving out. the train had still to pick up speed and i should have been able to jump into one of the compartments, but i hesitated—for some reason i can’t explain—and i lost the chance to get away. when the train had gone, i found myself standing alone on the deserted platform. i had no idea where to spend the night. i had no friends, believing that friends were trouble than help. and i did not want to arouse curiosity by staying at one of the small hotels nearby. the only person i knew really well was the man i had robbed. leaving the station, i walked slowly through the bazaar. in my short career, i had made a study of people’s faces after they had discovered the loss of their valuables. the greedy showed panic; the rich showed anger; the poor, resignation. but i knew that romi’s face when he discovered the theft would show only a touch of sadness—not for the loss of money, but for the loss of trust. the night was chilly—november nights can be cold in northern india—and a shower of rain added to my discomfort. i sat down in the shelter of the clock tower. a few beggars and vagrants lay beside me, rolled up tight in their blankets. the clock showed midnight. i felt for the notes; they were soaked through. romi’s money. in the morning he would probably have given me five rupees to go to the movies, but now i had it all: no more cooking meals, running to the bazaar, or learning to write sentences. sentences! i had forgotten about them in the excitement of the theft. writing complete sentences, i knew, could one day bring me more than a few hundred rupees. it was a simple matter to steal. but to be a really big man, a clever and respected man, was something else. i should go back to romi, i told myself, if only to learn to read and write. i hurried back to the room feeling very nervous, for it is much easier to steal something than to return it undetected. i opened the door quietly, then stood in the doorway in clouded moonlight. romi was still asleep. i crept to the head of the bed, and my hand came up with the packet of notes. i felt his breath on my hand. i remained still for a few moments. then my fingers found the edge of the mattress, and i slipped the money beneath it. i awoke late the next morning to find that romi had already made the tea. he stretched out a hand to me. there was a fifty-rupee note his fingers. my heart sank. “i made some money yesterday,” he said. “now i’ll be able to pay you regularly.” my spirits rose. but when i took the note, i noticed that it was still wet from the night’s rain. so he knew what i’d done. but neither his lips nor his eyes revealed anything. “today we’ll start writing sentences,” he said. i smiled at romi in my most appealing way. and the smile came by itself, without any effort.
ruskin বন্ড বাংলা সংস্করণের চোর গল্প