Hai cercato la traduzione di if i gave everything i had to the... da Inglese a Tagalog

if i gave everything i had to the poor.
hindi ito tumagal ng galak sa maling

if i had to describe my personality
kung kailangan kong ilarawan ang aking pagkatao

3.if gave everything i had to the poor and even gave my own body but only to recieve praise and not through love it would be of no values to me
3.if gave everything i had to the poor and even gave my own body but only to recieve praise and not through love it would be of no values to me

if i had to live my life without you near me
the days would all be empty

if i had to choose between you and your mother
kung papipiliin ako o yong mama mo

i would go to the movies if i had the time.
pupunta ako sa sine kung may oras ako.

i would have gone to the movies if i had had the time.
kung may oras lang ako, pupunta sana ako sa sinehan.

if i had to describe my personality i'd say good looking
kung kailangan kong ilarawan ang aking pagkatao

if i had to describe my personality i'd say good looking
kung kailangan kong ilarawan ang aking pagkatao sasabihin kong maganda

i was suddenly excite because i knew i had to learn a lot. i immediately went to the waiting area for a motorcycle ride.
narinig ko na ang malakas at maingay na busina ng motor na isang hudyat na ako'y pupunta sa lugar ng knowledge at learnings, ang paaralan.

i can't even imagine life without you. if i had to let you go, i will 💔
hindi ko maisip ang buhay kung wala ang iyong pagmamahal

storlupmipas is a long time wonderful person who had my sarile family . i was blessed with two children who made me very happy. they are my inspiration for especially the cup of diligence in finding life . i wouldn't let them experience the experiences i had when i was little. i will work hard to provide for all their needs even if i am only a waste but it will not be ashamed because it is what my family and maker lives in tagalog
lupamipas ang mahabang panahon hangang nagkaroon na ng sarile kong pamilya . biniyayaan ng dalawang anak na labis na nag pasaya sa akin . sila ang aking inspirasyon para lalo kopang sipagan ang pag hahanap buhay . hindi ko hahayaan na maranasan nila ang mga naranasan ko nung akoy maliit pa . pasusumikapan kona maibigay lahat ng kaninilang pangangailangan kahit ako ay basurero lamang hindi konaman ito ikakahiya sapagkat ito ang ibinubuhay kosa aking pamilya y maker in tagalog

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