Ĉiuj tradukoj

Son sueños
que son de verdad.
Me gustaría que fuera real.
Son sueños,
quiero llegar hasta el final
y nada sirve si no estás.

En silencio, te busco
y sueño con poderte amar
y te sigo buscando tanto...
Tú en mí nunca te has fijado
por eso te tengo que inventar.
Te sigo esperando tanto...
Tú en mí nunca te has fijado
por eso te tengo que encontrar.

Son gestos
que quiero mirar.
Me gustaría poderte tocar.
Son sueños,
quiero que existas, nada más.
Sigo buscando ¿dónde estás?

En silencio, te busco
y sueño con poderte amar
y te sigo buscando tanto...
Tú en mí nunca te has fijado
por eso te tengo que inventar.
Te sigo esperando tanto...
Tú en mí nunca te has fijado
por eso te tengo que encontrar.

Cogitationes intra mentis canere melius quam cum locutus.

Nil tam difficile est, quin quaerendo investigari possiet.

And Edward, possessing neither vice or virtue, a tissue, an interim...

Nube que tuve toda tragar
hoy párpados hinchados te ciegan.
Brumaría las horas
cansado y hambriento.

Vierte el cuello entre el hielo,
deja que se humedezcan los labios,
inunda la boca de amargo licor.
Arde, garganta.

Partida de dados en el almacén,
miradas atentas se empujan.
La sinceridad, enemiga del ganador,
dilata el pasado y el porvenir.

Cinababy druppels
Toepassing
VSM Kind 0-3 Cinababy druppels is een homeopathisch geneesmiddel voor gebruik bij darmkrampjes
Samenstelling

Per 100 g: Chamomilla D6 10 g, Cina maritima D6 10 g, Colocynthis D6 10 g, Lac vaccinum defloratum D6 10 g, Magnesium muriaticum D6 10 g. Hulpstoffen: water, glycerol (E422) en xylitol. Alcoholgehalte 2,69% (v/v).
Dosering en gebruiksaanwijzing
Kinderen van 0 tot 3 jaar: In acute klachten elk uur 3 druppels, maximaal 6 maal per dag. Daarna 3 maal daags 3 druppels. Cinababy druppels bij voorkeur een half uur voor/na de maaltijd toedienen, even in de mond laten houden en dan laten doorslikken. Als je merkt dat je kind nauwelijks reageert op Cinababy druppels of als er onverklaarbare klachten optreden, is het aan te raden een arts te raadplegen.

Logisch, vier angetriebene Räder sind auf glatter Fahrbahn besser als zwei - da verwundert es auch nicht, dass sich jeder vierte Autofahrer in Deutschland ein Allradfahrzeug wünscht, das sagt zumindest eine Studie aus dem Jahr 2003. Doch die verschiedenen 4x4-Systeme machen die Entscheidung nicht gerade einfacher. Um herauszufinden, welcher Allrad für welche Einsatzgebiete der Optimale ist, hat Allrad-Magazin die verschiedenen Systeme auf Eis und Schnee einem Vergleich unterzogen.

Mitte Dezember in Kühtai, einem österreichischen Wintersportort in über zweitausend Metern Höhe. Glatte Straßen, ein eisiger Handlingkurs und tief verschneite Steilauffahrten - hier müssen die verschiedenen Allrad-Antriebssysteme zeigen was sie können.

Praktisch, dass Suzuki anlässlich des "Snow Camps" nicht nur für die Infrastruktur gesorgt hat, sondern auch vier verschiedene 4x4-Systeme in seinen Allradfahrzeugen verbaut. An den Start des Allrad-Vergleichs gehen zum einen zwei echte Offroader: Der Jimny mit klassischem Zuschalt-Allrad und Geländeuntersetzung sowie der Grand Vitara, der mit seinem LSD (Limited Slip Mitten-Differenzial) und Reduktionsgetriebe als Vertreter der modernen Geländewagen-Antriebstechnik gilt. Demgegenüber stehen mit dem Swift 4x4 ein typischer Allrad-Pkw und mit dem SX4 ein SUV. Beide verfügen über ein automatisch zuschaltendes Allradsystem und verzichten auf eine Geländeuntersetzung. Der wesentliche Unterschied: Bei der Einfach-Lösung des Swift beteiligt eine Visco-Kupplung die Hinterachse am Vortrieb, während der SX4 über eine "intelligente" Regelung mit elektronisch gesteuerter Lamellenkupplung zur Kraftverteilung zwischen den Achsen verfügt und so als typischer Vertreter der modernen SUV-Allradsysteme antritt. Somit repräsentieren die vier Suzukis stellvertretend die diversen 4x4-Systeme, die auch in den Allradfahrzeugen der meisten anderen Hersteller Verwendung finden.

Nobody attempting to controvert his position, he took a small brown-paper parcel out of his hat, and putting on a pair of horn spectacles (the writing being crabbed) read the direction half a dozen times over; having done which he consigned the parcel to its old place, put up his spectacles again, and stared at everybody in turn. After this he took another blow at the horn by way of refreshment; and having now exhausted his usual topics of conversation, folded his arms as well as he could in so many coats, and falling into a solemn silence, looked carelessly at the familiar objects which met his eye on every side as the coach rolled on—the only things he seemed to care for being horses and droves of cattle, which he scrutinized with a critical air as they were passed upon the road.
The weather was intensely and bitterly cold: a great deal of snow fell from time to time, and the wind was intolerably keen. Mr. Squeers got down at almost every stage—to stretch his legs, as he said—and as he always came back from such excursions with a very red nose, and composed himself to sleep directly, there is reason to suppose that he derived great benefit from the process. The little pupils having been stimulated with the remains of their breakfast and further invigorated by sundry small sups of a curious cordial carried by Mr. Squeers, which tasted very like toast-woke, shivered, and cried, as their feelings prompted. Nicholas and the good-tempered man found so many things to talk about, that between conversing together and cheering up the boys, the time passed with them as rapidly as it could, under such circumstances.
So the day wore on. At Eton-Slocomb there was a good coach dinner, of which the box, the four front of outsides, the one inside, Nicholas, the good-tempered man, and Mr. Squeers partook; while the five little boys were put to thaw by the fire, and regaled with sandwiches. A stage or two further on the lamps were lighted, and a great to-do occasioned by the taking up at a roadside inn of a very fastidious lady, with an infinite variety of cloaks and small parcels, who loudly lamented, for the behoof of the outsides, the non-arrival of her own carriage, which was to have taken her on, and made the guard solemnly promise to stop every green chariot he saw coming; which, as it was dark night, and he was sitting with his face the other way, the officer undertook, with many fervent asseverations, to do.

Wir ham erfahr'n,
dass man heut' vor ein paar Jahr'n
den Zeitpunkt günstig fand
und dich kurzerhand entband.
Seitdem bist du auf der Welt.
Schön, dass es dir hier gefällt.
Alles Gute zum Geburtstag!

Wir wünschen Dir, dass lauter nette Leute
ganz besonders heute
ganz in deiner Nähe sind,
und dass sie dir vielleicht sogar was schenken,
und dass sie an dich denken,
denn du bist das Geburtstagskind.

Wir wünschen dir im neuen Lebensjahr,
dass das, was gut ist, bleibt, so wie es war,
und dass alles, was dich nervt,
sich zumindest nicht verschärft.

Wir wünschen dir, dass du an jedem Morgen
fröhlich, ohne Sorgen,
deinen neuen Tag beginnst,
und dass du zwar höchstwahrscheinlich nie
die Fernsehlotterie,
doch manchen neuen Freund gewinnst.

Wir wünschen dir im Sommer Sonnenschein,
im Winter soll es ohne Ende schnei'n,
und dass du, je nach dem, wie's ist,
passend angezogen bist!

Und dass viele Leute dich besuchen
und dir leck'ren Kuchen
bringen. Ja, das wär' uns Recht!
Wir hoffen, du sagst: „Heute ist ein Tag
ganz genau, wie ich ihn mag –
Geburtstag haben ist nicht schlecht!“

Und dass du auch in Zukunft ganz ohne Beschwerden
Freude hast am gepflegten Älterwerden.
Also, kurz gesagt – und darum sind wir hier - :
Wir gratulieren dir!

She fought the impulse to barricade herself. Yard by yard, he neatly came on. Her heart beat to suffocation but she would not move. He drew nearer, his eyes upon her, expressionless, walking with jaunty steps on the piney ground. She clenched her hands at her sides and stood strongly… She woke and shook herself free of her dream. The dream, now induced into a subterranean course, had shown her clearly the face and person of E. Never, never, she reflected again—and this was strange—has she been able to summon Tom’s face. She could call to sight his walk, his manner of sitting, or turning, all characteristic of a man but disembodied, appearing as a walking, a sitting, a turning, a looking. … She looked at her servitude as if it was not hers, but another’s. He will go to his reward, if any, and –Good Lord—so shall I. But now, as she sat on the side of her bed, the car not an hour gone, the dream yet undreamed and unforgotten…

Miss Stuart likes art. She has us bring old shirts of our fathers from home, so we can do messier art without getting our clothes dirty. While we scissor and paint and paste she walks the aisles in her nurse’s mask, looking over our shoulders. But if anyone, a boy, draws a silly picture on purpose, she holds the page up in mocking outrage. "This guy here thinks he's being smarrut. You’ve got more between the ears than that!”. And she flicks him on the ear with her thumb and fingernail.
For her, we make the familiar paper objects, the pumpkins, the Christmas bells, but she has us to do other things too. We make complicated floral patterns with a compass, we glue odd substances to cardboard backings: feathers, sequins, pieces of macaroni garishly dyed, lengths of drinking-straw. We do group murals on the blackboards or on large rolls of brown paper. We draw pictures about foreign countries: Mexico with cactuses and men in enormous hats, China with cones on the heads and seeing-eye boats, India with what we intend to be graceful, silk-draped women balancing cooper urns, and jewels on their foreheads.
I like these foreign pictures because I can believe in them. I desperately need to believe that somewhere else these other foreign people exist. No matter that at Sunday School I’ve been told such people are either starving or heathens or both. No matter that my weekly collection goes to convert them, feed them, smarten them up. Miss Lumley saw them as crafty, given to he eating of outlandish or disgusting foods and to acts of treachery against the British, but I prefer Miss Stuart’s versions, in which the sun above their heads is cheerful yellow, the palm trees a clear green, the clothing they wear is floral, their folk-songs gay. The women chatter together in quick incomprehensible languages, they laugh, showing perfect, pure-white teeth. If these people exist I can go there sometime. I don’t have to stay here.
“Today”, says Miss Stuart, “we are going to draw what we do after school.”
The others hunch over their desks, I know what they will draw: skipping ropes, jolly snowmen, listening to the radio, playing with a dog. I stare at my own paper, which remains blank. Finally I draw my bed, with myself in it. My bed has a dark wooden headboard with curlicues on it. I draw the window, the chest–of-drawers. I color in the night. My hand holding the black crayon presses down, harder and harder, until the picture is entirely black, until only a faint shadow of my bed and my head on the pillow remains to be seen.

Back in the seventeenth century the Americans’ ancestors in each colony “either before, or soon after their emigration, entered into particular compacts with the Kings of England,” involving their several forms of government which were, “by charters, royal proclamations, and the laws and regulations in each colony…made by the mutual consent of the King and the People.” These charters were not franchises or grants from the Crown that could be unilaterally recalled of forfeited, as the Tories claimed: “Their running in the stile of a grant is mere matter of form and not of substance.”