Şunu aradınız:: still i'm waiting for a call what can i d... (İngilizce - Tamilce)

still i'm waiting for you to wish
இருந்தாலும் உங்க ஆசைக்காக காத்திருக்கிறேன்

still i'm waiting for your birthday wish
இன்னும் உன் ஆசைக்காக காத்திருக்கிறேன்

i am waiting for a call from the bank
உங்கள் அழைப்புக்காக காத்திருக்கிறது

i dont know what can i do
நான் என்ன செய்ய வேண்டும் என்று எனக்குத் தெரியும்

i don't know what can i do
enaku therila na enna pananu

what can i do
நான் தமிழ் அர்த்தம் என்ன செய்ய முடியும்

what can i do it
நான் தமிழ் அர்த்தம் என்ன செய்ய முடியும்

what can i do for you
tamil

what can i do, sir?
அப்புரம் என்னனு சொல்லுங்க சார்

now what can i do it sir
இப்போது நான் என்ன செய்ய முடியும் ஐயா

hello i am quite well what can i do for you
नमस्कार मैं काफी अच्छी तरह से आप के लिए क्या कर सकता हूँ

tell me what can i do for you
நீங்கள் என்னிடம் சொல்ல வேண்டும்

what can i do because i love you
ஏனென்றால் நான் உன்னை மிகவும் நேசிக்கிறேன் அம்மா

let me see what can i do for you
உங்களுக்காக நான் என்ன செய்ய முடியும் என்பதை எனக்குத் தெரியப்படுத்துங்கள்

so that what can i do tamil meaning
நான் தமிழ் அர்த்தம் என்ன செய்

hello ! hello!what can i do for you
நான் உங்களுக்காக என்ன செய்ய முடியும்

what happened i asked you do u want to say anything u didn't say what can i do now yaar meaning in hindi
என்ன நடந்தது என்று நான் உங்களிடம் கேட்டேன், நீங்கள் எதையும் சொல்ல விரும்புகிறீர்களா என்று நீங்கள் சொல்லவில்லை, நான் இப்போது என்ன செய்ய முடியும் என்று இந்தி மொழியில் அர்த்தம்

said the cunning spider to the fly, "dear friends what can i do,
பறக்கத் தந்திரமான சிலந்தி கூறினார், "அன்பே நண்பர்களே நான் என்ன செய்ய முடியும்,

i'm doing nothingi had been staying with a friend of mine, an artist and delightfully lazy fellow, at his cottage among the yorkshire fells, some ten miles from a railway-station; and as we had been fortunate enough to encounter a sudden spell of really warm weather, day after day we had set off in the morning, taken the nearest moorland track, climbed leisurely until we had reached somewhere about two thousand feet above sea-level, and had then spent long golden afternoon lying flat on our backs – doing nothing. there is no better lounging place than a moor. it is a kind of clean bare antechamber to heaven. beneath its apparent monotony that offers no immediate excitement, no absorbing drama of sound and colour, there is subtle variety in its slowly changing patterns of cloud and shadow and tinted horizons, sufficient to keep up a flicker of interest in the mind all day. with its velvety patches, no bigger than a drawing-room carpet, of fine moorland grass, its surfaces invite repose. its remoteness, its permanence, its old and sprawling indifference to man and his concerns, rest and cleanse the mind. all the noises of the world are drowned in the one monotonous cry of the curlew. day after day, then, found us full-stretched upon the moor, looking up at the sky or gazing dreamily at the distant horizon. it is not strictly true, of course, to say that we did absolutely nothing, for we smoked great quantities of tobacco, ate sandwiches and little sticks of chocolate, drank from the cold bubbling streams that spring up from nowhere, gurgle for a few score yards, then disappear again. occasionally we exchanged a remark to two. but we probably came as close to doing nothing as it is possible for two members of our race. we made nothing, not even any plans; not a single idea entered our heads; we did not even indulge in that genial boasting which is the usual pastime of two friendly males in conference. somewhere, far away, our friends and relatives were humming and bustling, shaping and contriving, planning, disputing, getting, spending; but we were gods, solidly occupied in doing nothing, our minds immaculate vacancies. but when our little hour of idling was done and we descended for the last time, as flushed as sunsets, we came down into this world of men and newspaper owners only to discover that we had just been denounced by mr gordon selfridge. when and where he had been denouncing us i do not know. nor do i know what hilarious company had invited and received his conferences. strange things happen at this season, when the unfamiliar sun ripens our eccentricities. it was only last year or the year before that some enterprising person who had organized a conducted tour to the continental arranged, as bait for the more intellectual holiday-makers, that a series if lectures should be given to the party by eminent authors at various places en route. the happy tourists set out, and their conductor was as good as his word, for behold – at the very first stopping-place dean inge gave them an address on the modern love of pleasure. but whether mr selfridge had been addressing a crowd of holiday-makers or a solemn conference of emporium owners, i do not know, but i do know that he said that he hated laziness more than anything else and held it the greatest of sins. i believe too that he delivered some judgment on persons who waste time, but i have forgotten his reasons and instances and, to be frank, would count it a disgraceful waste of time to discover again what they were. mr selfridge did not mention us by name, but it is hardly possible to doubt that he had us in mind throughout his attack on idleness. perhaps he had had a frantic vision of the pair of us lying flat on our backs on the moor, wasting time royally while the world’s work waited to be done, and, incidentally, to be afterwards bought and sold in mr selfridge’s store. i hope he had, for the sight should have done him good; we are a pleasing spectacle at any time, but when we are doing nothing it would do any man’s heart good to see us, even in the most fragmentary and baffling vision.
நான் ஒன்றும் செய்வதில்லை