Je was op zoek naar: when i saw her it was like am going to marry... (Engels - Tagalog)

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

the other day and i went back again to the heat and it was like i was going to burn and we walked to the banana and i ate biscuits and i had fun and in the afternoon we came home and we were home
nong isang araw at bumalik ako ulit subrang init at parang na susunog ako at kami ay lumakad sa sagingan at kumain ako nang biscuits ang saya ko at nung hapon ay umambon nanaman at kami ay umuwi na at na sweldohan na kami

i arrived early in the afternoon for duty. if i schedule 5 p.m tpos when i will punch in my time card i saw that it was past 5 p.m
dumating ako ng maaga ng h apon para magduty. kase schedule ko 5p.m at kung kaylan na ako magpunch in ng aking time card nakita ko na lagpas na pala ito ng alas 5p.m

her friend used asleep over sometime i some orange lightn its was here friend is noticed couch we had sliding door so she would hear you know love making one night the door slightly open and i saw shadow i notice some orange light it was here friend smoking cigarettes watching through the sliding door open when i finished i went to shower guest what i found in the cr
ang kanyang kaibigan na ginamit natutulog sa paglipas ng ilang sandali ko ilang orange lightn nito ay dito kaibigan ay napansin sopa kami ay sliding pinto upang siya ay marinig alam mo pag - ibig paggawa ng isang gabi ang pinto bahagyang bukas at nakita ko anino napansin ko ang ilang orange light ito ay dito kaibigan paninigarilyo sigarilyo nanonood sa pamamagitan ng sliding pinto bukas kapag ako tapos na ako nagpunta sa shower guest kung ano ang nakita ko sa cr

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