您搜索了: i saw of you so many of my smiles begin with you (英语 - 他加禄语)

so many of my smiles begin with you
i met a girl and got lost in her smile

so many of my smiles start with you
marami sa aking mga ngiti ay nagsisimula sa iyo

why are you with so many of my friends
bakit ikaw pa sa dami ng kaidad ko iwan

because there are so many of you that i can't understand
dami kasi kayo ehh diko na maintindihan

why do so many of my friends like one of them don't understand me
wala kang pake sa nararamdaman ko

before this month ends i just want to thank all of you who greeted my birthday especially to all who have been a part of my life for 25 years here on earth. to those who trust,and continue to love and be there for me, especially to those with a thick heart who continue to guide me and accompany me all the time, thank you so much for all of that.
bago matapos ang buwan na ito nais ko lamang magpasalamat sa inyong lahat na bumati sa kaarawan ko lalong lalo na sa lahat ng naging parti ng buhay ko sa loob ng 25 years ko dito sa mundo.sa mga taong nagtitiwala,at patuloy nagmamahal at nandiyan para sa akin,lalong lalo na sa poong may kapal na patuloy akong ginagabayan at sinasamahan sa lahat nga oras,maraming salamat sa lahat ng iyon.

c/for the person who made me happy i was most happy when i saw you again during the time i went through a lot of things i went through sad i was happy when i wasn't with you yet i see but when i see you i also don't know that i'll see you again but maybe destiny the one who brought me to you there is a lot of pain in my heart but you came so i lost all the sadness of my heart but i know if even you are the one who makes me happy so much when i see you my heart seems to jump for joy
c/para sa tao na nag papa saya sa akin pinaka masaya noong makita kang muli sa tagal ng panahon marami ng napag daanan naranasan lungkot saya noong hndi pa kita nakakasama nakikita ngunit ng makita kita hindi ko rin nmn alam na makikita pa kita pero siguro tadhana yung nagdala sa akin sayo maraming masakit sa puso ko pero dumating ka kaya nawala lahat ng lungkot ng puso ko pero alam kung kahit ikaw yung nagpapasaya sa akin ng sobra sobra pag nakikita kita parang tumatalon sa saya yung puso k

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