An indefinite article is a word that indicates that a noun is not specific e. A preposition is a word that indicates the relationship between a noun and another word e. He ran through the door.
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A noun is a word referring to a person, animal, place, thing, feeling or idea e. Spanish nouns have a gender, which is either feminine like la mujer or la luna or masculine like el hombre or el sol. My name starts with an A. Mi nombre empieza con una A. I got an A on all my exams. Juan played an improvisation in A minor. Can you sing an A, please? An abbreviation is the shortened form of a word or group of words e.
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The intensity of this electric current is 10 A. A road n Britain carretera f nacional. A side n [of record] cara f A.
I have a wife and six children tengo mujer y seis hijos; have you got a passport? Patrick, a lecturer at Glasgow University, says that Patrick, profesor de la Universidad de Glasgow, dice que May I reprimand in sorrow, so that I know I have given correction lovingly! Let me make my brick schoolhouse into a temple of the spirit. Let the radiance of my enthusiasm encircle the humble playground and the bare classroom. Sweet the passing day because of that silk, sweet the sustenance, sweet the ancient sadness, at least for the few hours it slips between my hands. My belly, now, is as noble as my heart.
Pero no importa si es tostado, con ese rico color de las gredas rojas que aman los alfareros, y si sus cabellos lisos tienen la simplicidad de mi vida entera. What Will He Be Like? What will he be like? I gazed for a long time at the petals of a rose, and I touched them delightedly: I would want that so ness for his cheeks.
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And I played in a tangle of brambles, because I would want his hair to be like that, dark and curling. But, above all, I want that face to share the sweetness he has in his face, and that voice to share the timbre of his voice when he speaks to me: for in the one who is to come, I want to love the one who kissed me. As if I were a cluster of blue-tinged grapes, the light passed through me for the sweetness I might yield. This that is making itself in the depths of me, drop by drop, from my veins: this was my wine.
For this I prayed, the name of God passing through my human clay, with which it would be made. Mi voz es suave, como por una sordina de amor, y es que temo despertarlo. Hurgo con miedo de ternura en las yerbas donde anidan codornices. Y voy por el campo silenciosa, cautelosamente.
The Sweetness Because of the sleeping child I carry, my footstep has turned cautious. And my whole heart is religious, since it carries this mystery. In the faces I see I search for signs of an inner pain, so that others might see and understand why my cheek has turned pale.
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In tender fear, I pick my way through the grasses where the quails nest. And I pass through the quiet countryside, heedfully. I believe that the trees and material things hold sleeping children, over whom they keep watch. La hermana Hoy he visto una mujer abriendo un surco. The Sister Today I watched a woman plow a furrow.
Her hips are swollen, like mine, by love, and her work made her bend toward the ground. I put my arm around her waist; I brought her home with me. And if my breast is not plentiful enough, my child will reach his lips toward hers, which is rich. Siento crecer mi pecho, subir como el agua en un ancho estanque, calladamente. Y su esponjadura echa sombra como de promesa sobre mi vientre. The Prayer But no!kinun-houju.com/wp-content/gobizoqyv/1886.php
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Would God let the buds of my breasts dry up, when He Himself widened my waist? I feel my breasts grow, swelling like water in a wide pool, silently. And their so ness casts a shadow like a promise across my belly. Who in all the valley would be poorer than I, if my breasts never did moisten? My child will come thirstily, searching for it.
Sensitiva Ya no juego en las praderas y temo columpiarme con las mozas. Soy como la rama con fruto. I am like a branch full of fruit. If even one glance from my master were harsh toward me tonight, I might die. My weeping and my laughter will begin in your face, my child! Pardon me everything: how the table full of food bothers me, how loud noises annoy me.
La quietud Ya no puedo ir por los caminos: tengo el rubor de mi ancha cintura y de la ojera profunda de mis ojos. Pongo rosas sobre mi vientre, digo sobre el que duerme estrofas eternas. Recojo en el corredor hora tras hora el sol acre. Recibo en el rostro el viento de los pinares. La luz y los vientos coloreen y laven mi sangre.
I lay roses across my belly, I recite ageless poems above the sleeper. On the verandah, hour a er hour, I take in the tang of the sun. I want to distill, as the fruit does, honey, in my core. May I feel the wind from the pine groves across my face. The light and the breezes ripen and clean my blood.
To cleanse it even more, I feel no hatred, I make no complaint: I love, only that! No tiene agujillas de cardo ni espinas de zarza.
Little White Clothes I knit the little slippers, I cut so diapers: I want to make everything with my own hands. He will come from my insides; he will recognize my scent. It has no thistle needles or blackberry thorns in it. Little white clothes! He sees them through my eyes, and he smiles, happy, sensing in advance how very so. La Tierra tiene la actitud de una mujer con un hijo en los brazos con sus criaturas en los anchos brazos. Voy conociendo el sentido maternal de las cosas.
Recuerdo ahora una quebrada del valle. The Earth has the bearing of a woman with a child in her arms—with her creatures in her broad arms. The mountain that watches me: it, too, is a mother, and at evening the fog plays like a child across her shoulders and her lap. Now I remember a ravine in the valley. Through its deep bed ran a singing current, wholly hidden by the weedy terrain.
Al esposo Esposo, no me estreches. Lo hiciste subir del fondo de mi ser como un lirio de aguas. No remuevas ansiosamente mi sangre; no agites mi aliento.