Valaki lenne olyan kedves, és megnézné, hogy mennyire vannak rendben a szövegek?
The little birch
In the park, a little birch stood. Young, green leaves were to it. But, he birch doesn't love the green leaves.. It want something especially. One day, thus it whispered in the wind:
-I nothing would like better, than gold leaves!
Immediately,the wish sounded, the green leaves of the birch started to change. When the first beam of the Sun came out, the little birch so lit as the fine gold. A passerby wonderingly touched more the gold leaves. After that, it some tore off and put in her pocket.
-That's sauciness!-said fretfully the little birch, but it doesn't do nothing. Later, more and more people arrived from every side.
Everyone want full one in the gold leaves.
-Why am I want golden leaves?-moaned the little birch and it felt very unhappy myself. But the wind heard the little birch woe and it gently here-here jiggled.
On one day, than it came out the first beam, the green leaves again appeared on the nake stick.
Kicsit görgetni kell, és ott lesz magyarul. ( A kis nyírfa.)
Bruno Ferrero: The rose
Rilke,the German poet in a time, he lived in Paris. He roved in the university with a French girl friend every day. His way guided/drove/leaded through in a really busy line. In the crossroad always stayd a pauper woman. She mendicancyd some handout from the passersby. She always sat in the same place. She was stock-still as a statue. She provided in front her hand, and her eyes pegged in the land. Rilke never give a mite either for her. But his girl friend often gave each coin for the pauper. Once, the young French women surprisedly asked the poet:
-Why don't you give nothing for this poor?
-I think we should give something for her, what isn't her hand, but her heart we give-said the poet.
Other days Rilke arrived with a rose. He went straight to the pauper woman. He put into the rose her hand and he wanted to go along. Then, however surprise happened: the pauper women unturned her eyes, looked upon the poet, very harly got up the land, seized the man hand and kissed it. Then, the rose was pushing strongly in her heart, she got off. He didn't see her through in a week. In the other week she again sat there on the street, in wanted: wordlessly, immovably as earlier.
-Whereby were she living through in a week, when didn't she get nothin?-asked the French girl friend.
-On the rose-answered the poet.
És, ez is itt volna magyarul.
Előre is köszönöm a válaszokat!:)
válasza:There was a little birch in the park. It had young and green leaves. But the birch didn't like the green leaves. It wanted something special...
Minden mondatban van valami hiba, nem nézem tovább.
válasza:
válasza: válasza:In the park stood a little birch tree. It had new, young green leaves. But the birch didn't like the green leaves. It wanted something special. One day it whispered in the wind:
-I would like nothing better than gold leaves!
As soon as the wish was said, the green leaves started to change. When the first rays of the Sun came out, the little birch tree was glittering like pure gold. A passer-by touched the leaves in amazement, then broke a few off, putting them in his pocket.
-That's rude! - said the little birch angrily but couldn't do anything about it. Later, more and more people arrived from all directions.
Everyone wanted at least one golden leaf.
-Why did I want golden leaves? - moaned the little birch and felt very unhappy. The wind heard the little birch's sadness, so it gently begun to sway it from side to side. And then, one day, whit the first sun-rays, the green leaves re-appeared on the bare branches.
válasza:Bruno Ferrero: The Rose
Rilke, the German poet, once lived in Paris. He walked daily to the university in the company of his French girlfriend. The way led through a very busy road. At the crossing, a beggar woman was always present. She was asking for a pittance from the pedestrians. She always sat in the same place. She was motionless, like a statue. She put a hand forward, with her eyes down. Rilke never gave a cent to her. In contrast, his girlfriend often slid a coin here and there into the beggar's palm. Once, the young French woman even asked the poet with surprise:
-Why don't you ever give anything to this poor woman?
-I think we should give her something that isn't meant for her hand but for her heart. - - answered the poet.
Next day, Rilke arrived with a stem of rose in bud.
He headed straight to the beggar woman. He put the rose in her hand and wanted to keep going. But just then an unexpected thing has happened. The woman lifted her gaze, looked up at the poet, stood up with great difficulty, grabbed the man's hand and kissed it. Then, holding the rose closely to her heart she left.He did not see her for a week. The following week, she sat there again, on the corner of the street, in her usual way: silently, motionlessly, as previously.
What could she has lived on through the week, when she didn't get anything - asked the French girlfriend.
On the rose - answered the poet.
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