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can i still
pwede ka pa naman mag mahal ulit
最后更新： 2024-01-21
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can i still be your girlfriend
pwede pa bang maging girlfriend kita ulit
最后更新： 2023-02-14
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can i still get
magpa vaccine
最后更新： 2021-10-06
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can i still wear it
maisusuot mo pa rin ang dati mong suot
最后更新： 2023-01-20
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can i still go home?
hindi na tuloy ang uwi ko
最后更新： 2020-03-17
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can i still afford it
di ko yata kaya yan
最后更新： 2022-08-23
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can i be in your country?
pwede ba akong maka opo dyan?
最后更新： 2023-05-10
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can i get in your car later
pwede bang makisabay yung kaibigan ko
最后更新： 2021-08-03
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am i still the main character in your story?
最后更新： 2023-07-26
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can i put my thumb in your butt
最后更新： 2023-10-31
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how can i say that in your language?
paano ko sasabihin ang iyan sa inyong lengwahe?
最后更新： 2014-02-01
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can i still tell you about my day
tumatawag ako upang sabihin sa iyo ang tungkol sa aking araw
最后更新： 2023-09-18
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my bed is broken can i sleep in your bedl
magulo ang ka
最后更新： 2021-03-24
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try as hard as i might to flee the shadows of the night it haunts me and it makes me feel blue but how can i try to hide when every breath and every hour i still end up thinking of you? and in the end, everything we have makes it worth the fight so i will hold on for as long
最后更新： 2024-02-13
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tried my best to stop thinking about you but what should i tell my heart it beats only in your love and in my mind you are there i still remember the way you care and i remember every moment with you as i am truly thinking about you baby yes you are my love and true as i am thinking about you!
tried my best to stop thinking about you but what should i tell my heart it beats only in your love and in my mind you are there i still remember the way you care and i remember every moment with you as i am truly thinking about you baby yes you are my love and true as i am thinking about you!
最后更新： 2020-06-01
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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
最后更新： 2020-02-01
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