Şunu aradınız:: you hold my hand and let me not go (İngilizce - Telugu)

forever hold my hand
hold my hand tight as i want to grow old with u from this day forth.....

could you please review it and let me know
దయచేసి నాకు తెలియజేయండి

jest hold my hand i show the meing of love
జస్ట్ నా చేతిని పట్టుకోండి నేను ప్రేమను విడదీయడాన్ని చూపిస్తాను

if you hold my hand i don't leave your hand in any situation
మీరు నా చేతిని పట్టుకుంటే ii ఎట్టి పరిస్థితుల్లోనూ మీ చేతిని వదలవద్దు

let me wash my hands
naa hands wash chesukonivvandi

i have updated l3 node for vendor test scripts.can you pls take forward and let me know if missed anything
వ్యక్తిగత కారణాల వల్ల నేను మార్చి 8న ఒక రోజు సెలవు కోసం దరఖాస్తు చేస్తున్నాను

hi sir ' i am vamshi i have not yet received the salary for may month and let me know when will salary credited . please look into this and do needful
హాయ్ సర్ 'నేను వమ్షి నేను మే నెలకు ఇంకా జీతం పొందలేదు మరియు జీతం ఎప్పుడు జమ అవుతుందో నాకు తెలియజేయండి. దయచేసి దీనిని పరిశీలించి అవసరమైన వాటిని చేయండి

when our teacher asks us question and everyone knows the answer except me and everyone raises there hand and i too raise my hand without knowing the answer
telugu

you once asked me who i loved most in this world it's you i've read hundres of novels in my life most of them claiming that love was the of the universe that it could heal any damage inside of us . that it was what we needed to survive. she took my hand and led me out of the darkness and showed me that , whatever our souls are made of , hers and mine are the same
ఈ ప్రపంచంలో నేను ఎవరిని ఎక్కువగా ప్రేమిస్తున్నాను అని మీరు ఒకసారి నన్ను అడిగారు, నేను నా జీవితంలో వందలాది నవలలు చదివాను, వాటిలో చాలా వరకు ప్రేమ అనేది విశ్వానికి సంబంధించినదని, అది మనలోని ఏదైనా నష్టాన్ని నయం చేయగలదని పేర్కొన్నారు. అది మనం బ్రతకడానికి అవసరమైనది. ఆమె నా చెయ్యి పట్టుకుని చీకట్లోంచి బయటకి నడిపించి, మన ఆత్మలు దేనితో తయారైనా, ఆమెది, నాది ఒకటే అని చూపించింది.

the room – story about what jesus does with our sins in that place between wakefulness and dreams, i found myself in the room. there were no distinguishing features save for one wall covered with small index card files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endlessly in either direction, had very different headings. as i drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read “people i have liked.” i opened it and began flipping cards. i quickly shut it, shocked to realize that i recognized the names written on each one. and then without being told, i knew exactly where i was. this lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. here were written the actions of every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn’t match. a sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as i began randomly opening files and exploring their content. some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that i would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. a file named “friends” was next to one marked “friends i have betrayed.” the titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. “books i have read,” “lies i have told,” “comfort i have given,” “jokes i have laughed at.” some were almost hilarious in their exactness: “things i’ve yelled at my brothers.” others i couldn’t laugh at: “things i have done in my anger,” “things i have muttered under my breath at my parents.” i never ceased to be surprised by the contents. often there were many more cards than i expected. sometimes fewer than i hoped. i was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life i had lived. could it be possible that i had the time in my short life to write each of these thousands or even millions of cards? but each card confirmed this truth. each was written in my own handwriting. each signed with my own signature. when i came to a file marked “lustful thoughts,” i felt a chill run through my body. i pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. i shuddered at its detailed content. i felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. an almost animal rage broke on me. one thought dominated my mind: no one must ever see these cards! no one must ever see this room! i have to destroy them! in an insane frenzy i yanked the file out. its size didn’t matter now. i had to empty it and burn the cards. but as i took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, i could not dislodge a single card. i became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when i tried to tear it. defeated and utterly helpless, i returned the file to its slot. leaning my forehead against the wall, i let out a long, self-pitying sigh. and then i saw it. the title bore “people i have shared the gospel with.” the handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. i pulled on its handle and a small box not more than 3 inches long fell into my hands. i could count the cards it contained on one hand. and then the tears came. i began to weep. sobs so deep that the hurt started in my stomach and shook through me. i fell on my knees and cried. i cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. the rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. no one must ever, ever know of this room. i must lock it up and hide the key. but then as i pushed away the tears, i saw him. no, please not him. not here. oh, anyone but jesus. i watched helplessly as he began to open the files and read the cards. i couldn’t bear to watch his response. and in the moments i could bring myself to look at his face, i saw a sorrow deeper than my own. he seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. why did he have to read every one? finally he turned and looked at me from across the room. he looked at me with pity in his eyes. but this was a pity that didn’t anger me. i dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. he walked over and put his arm around me. he could have said so many things. but he didn’t say a word. he just cried with me. then he got up and walked back to the wall of files. starting at one end of the room, he took out a file and, one by one, began to sign his name over mine on each card. “no!” i shouted rushing to him. all i could find to say was “no, no,” as i pulled the card from him. his name shouldn’t be on these cards. but there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. the name of jesus covered mine. it was written with his blood. he gently took the card back. he smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. i don’t think i’ll ever understand how he did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed i heard him close the last file and walk back to my side. he placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “it is finished.” i stood up, and he led me out of the room. there was no lock on its door. there were still cards to be written. read more at stories | jesus christ wallpapers | christian songs online - part 123 http://www.turnbacktogod.com/category/stories/page/123/#ixzz3ulm9yz6m
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