Você procurou por: nut (Africâner - Inglês)

nut van diere
utility animals

wat is die nut hiervan?
what's the point?

watter nut kan die muur dan nog hê?
- hi! - did you hear?

vir die eerste maal in my lewe was my titel vir my van nut
i think it's just a question of joining them together... iegato. simplicity is the hardest thing.

moenie veranderings maak op die stelsel nie (slegs van nut vir programmeerders)
do not make any changes to the system (only of use to developers)

óf tot 'n tugroede, óf tot nut van sy aarde, óf tot weldadigheid laat hy dit sy doel vind.
he causeth it to come, whether for correction, or for his land, or for mercy.

herinner aan hierdie dinge en betuig voor die here dat hulle geen woordestryd moet voer wat tot geen nut is nie, maar net tot ondergang van die hoorders.
of these things put them in remembrance, charging them before the lord that they strive not about words to no profit, but to the subverting of the hearers.

kyk, ek, paulus, sê vir julle dat as julle jul laat besny, christus vir julle tot geen nut sal wees nie.
behold, i paul say unto you, that if ye be circumcised, christ shall profit you nothing.

dit is die gees wat lewend maak, die vlees is van geen nut nie; die woorde wat ek tot julle spreek, is gees en is lewe.
it is the spirit that quickeneth; the flesh profiteth nothing: the words that i speak unto you, they are spirit, and they are life.

memories of toeka until now i sit and gaze longingly out the window strange... far... lost..... suddenly the nostalgic smell of my grandmother's nut coffee evokes worn memories. i want to run to the kitchen. embrace her. the sound of her voice sings in my ears. the smell of fresh farm bread enters my nose. what's stopping me? the strange... distant longing. i miss my grandfather's long cigars - a mixture of nectar and nostalgia. he could sketch a story that made da vinci's efforts look like puppetry. time stood still. i would like it to stop. stop... break... stand. where is the rooster early in the morning when i have to get up? the bleating of the sheep in the fold? i miss the sounds... the conversations.... i wish i could turn back time. it stops. relive the memories: grandma's voice as sweet as honey. her peasant food that melts in my mouth. the smell of fresh linen on my bed. her scent longing... vanishing. the family photo on the desk is worn. vague. crumbled. it's like it ignited my memories. my film ran out in places. i am confused. afraid. angry at myself. why can't i remember or unfold my thoughts? i try to organize my thoughts a task far above my fireplace. when? where? what? the questions that grind through my head like worn clothes in a washing machine. it's like my mind has been washed clean. washed out. washed up. my thoughts are not like new clothes you can buy in a store. it is priceless. unrecoverable. i wish there was a store where thoughts were available. where i could go looking. going to understand i want to go back. after the smell of a meat on the coals. a milk mustache is made with the dairy cow's nectar. i miss the farm... the country... my country. time stands still in africa, but here? it flies. i want to fly away from this wilderness. back. home in my house. i want to feel the sun on my body again. getting lost in the timeless tram of my home. it feels so far... desolate. i want to get out. get away. return. the nausea hits me like a nail in the throat. i long for... humanity. being at home. timelessness. come get me i no longer want to exist in the characterless catastrophe. take me back back to my memories... heroes... hope. i want to wake up in my bed again. i want to remember again.... everything seems strange northern ver
afrikaans mind maps