Well, it there's one nation that would have a native species of hyper intelligent squirrel, this would be it.
Lucy (who'd been in the UK for some 30 years) was telling me about meeting somebody who asked her if she was Canadian, as she didn't have "that nasty, harsh American accent". Coming from Maryland, she was, understandably miffed!
What happens when you run some of the more serious bits of a novel through Scots Gaelic: Have a look at both time and thousands. He got the place where he was not aware that Emily was walking to the right, the weight of the box under his arm, and the black shades of trees. The upper branches began to spill out, allowing the green green sound to be broadcast down. There were a few other steps and they would be out of the woods, and then - He put something small and sharp into him, drunk so deeply that he overwhelmed him and fell on his back in the mud. He looked down and saw an arrow put his shoulder. In particular, he tried to pull out, but his pain went to his heart, and the beautiful arrow would not be taken. He heard grunting and showed up: Emily had made two sounds. She reached down, took her arm and helped him. Another seed buried in the ground with his legs, fired from the back. Emily gave him the box and ran. ********************** He came to the edge of the trees and went down to the loch. The water was smooth, showing the aurora and stars as a magnificent mirror. He pulled a wave on his knees. When he passed, he looked up and explored the sky for any mark that the endless night was over. He did not get any. He threw the box away and put the powder into the water. He tried to rise, but was donated by mistake. The darkness lay over its vision, and swallowed many times to keep it from casting out. He had lost too much blood. Even though he got back on his legs, he could never be brought back to Emily. Ragnar stopped his face and took hold of him. He was still crying for his sadness when the volcano collapsed, a tear of tears from meat, and meat from bone.
No context, no nothing. Through Spanish. I remember for the first time After a couple of months locked in the arms of paradise (which at that time was the most popular celebrity star.) It may have been a classification jar, but it cost me a fortune and cleaned me.) Now tell me, what on earth is a "classification jar"? ETA A bonus. Don't drink and drive, kids! Fortunately for him, my ability to drive under the influence of alcohol practiced many times over the years and when I noticed the crazy intersection that crossed the street, I could perform my best robotics. And look out for the crazy intersections crossing the streets!
In the darkness, Admiral vied for my attention with a soft woof as he shook off sleep. He was painted by the flowing glow of red and blue, among other colors filtered through the glass mosaic of St. Jude. As soon as I looked at him, Admiral sat in place, awaiting orders. Maybe waiting for me to notice the more immediate concern. And in Greek, then back to English: In the dark, the Admiral showed my attention with a soft shampoo as she cried her sleep. It was painted by the flow of red and blue, among other colors filtered through the glass mosaic of Saint Judah. As soon as I looked at him, the admiral sat in his seat, waiting for orders. Maybe I expect to notice the most immediate concern.
English -> Scottish Gaelic -> English The clouds were dark, uncertainly, on the cerulean spear. Sailors from the clouds moved across the marsh. The winds sat towards the valley where the clouds were gathering. This revealed the glen. It struck an electronically there occasionally. Two walkers moved down the River Arag to the glen.
I just realized how many V names I have in this paragraph. Anyways. Broken Flames - first paragraph Vesselsivora watched the village below. There was something serene about it, something almost calming, at least until she remembered Valeisi. Poor, sweet, innocent Valeisi. Her hope, her freedom, and her redemption shattered by the so-called heroes of this world. Why did everyone on Verail deserve to live their lives happily and freely while all she ever felt was pain, suffering, and loss? It was a pointless question of course. She knew why. After putting it through Kyrgyz Vesselsivora looking at the bottom of the village. Valeisi remember, at least, it was something about it, and there is almost nothing that stands out. Poor, sweet, innocent Valeisi. Its hope, its freedom, its purchase of the world is destroyed by the so-called hero. He will never feel that pain, loss, and why every person on the Verail deserves a happy and free life, was not it? This was, of course, an important question. Why, he knew.
Because this thread is too funny to ever be allowed to die... Emily was out of her mind. It was the only possible explanation for what it was just recommended. The factory was held by laptop warriors very skilled. None of the sciences were armed. If the birds do not get them, anyone on the top of the volcano would be if he was going to kill him. If the bird was to get them ... Ragnar had grown up hearing stories about what the dökkálfar could do. He had had dark nights about what the dökkálfar could do. These thoughts would be circulating around his head forever, if he had seized his face on his face. It was screened.
I just tried to run The First Child through a couple different languages, and I think it makes more sense now
Here is 2 paragraphs : English-Hausa-English (sorta). Who knew taking an issue stimulant would be this freaking insane. (From my WIP). Feel free to wake up without sleep late tonight. Fumbling with the left pocket pocket, hold one of the inside syringes. Keeping a tight eye on my eyes, confirm what I'm looking for. Lack of fresh water under the label. Endrozaprin shines in front of my eyes. Place the injection vaccine on the right side of my mouth, holding it tightly as I pull free snake. Take my hand injection, leaving 4 percent of the syringe in my life. It's a pity that I'm feeling that the vaccine will get out of me, and I'll re-create it. Place it on the left breast breast. Taking a deep breath as a rebel began to work on my system. Lack of living becomes a memory. Instead it replaces it with important equilibrium, psychological disorders, and low levels of humor. A good hair on my neck and destiny is standing at the end, and I can hear what's visible and physically. Because he is now eager to take part in a civil war, but the thought is broken by a regular routine that observes such views in research.
English - Scots Gaelic - English Jessie McShane had a problem. She showed herself in the mirror. She saw a caterpillar looking back to her. She looked at her watch. Ten minutes to eight o'clock in the morning. That was another problem. His native mother told the Illinois tree that he is familiar with from the kitchen. 'Jessie. It's ten. You run late. Mr Jacobsen does not like this. ' Janet had no time to scratch and welcome him. She put a little bit of a little bottle on her treasure, put her eyes and her chin out, put her in the red whistle he put on the company, pushing her hair up and going down the stairs.
Here's the opening of my novel, via Urdu: I was sitting on the sofa. One hand was mechanically mechanical to the toast plate except it was pieces without seeing pieces in my mouth. The second tape was mounted on the other laptop, which was balanced on a knee and the progress of biofelic acid in the long range transmission vehicles increased. Do not add as much as you like, since the word was cheated as compared to the towel times. He looked above the glass of his reading, listening to the stairs. He was living for a long time to know every crew of the living floor and stairs living in this house, and could use them to track the growth of his own visitor. Problems with slow, counting and living paths. This means that it was Gordon Quiet, who had been as a man in the morning. Lisa Wang had always made a delicate touch in the morning with a delicate touch, even if she knew her family, Ranaa was forced to take both the passengers to pass through the kitchen. "Why, thank you, Gordy!" He said, seeing it is a little jump. "It will be very beautiful, milk, no thanks, you're a cute!" They went back with a chocolate, listening to the mute of confession. After all, in the morning, it was a lightweight sleeper to be annoying in the morning and used it on every occasion.
The original paragraph: Power corrupts; the time of the Du’adyn was long since over and the infamy of their magic faded into myth along with them. Now was the age of man and peace had reigned in the whole of Asgaroth for many hundreds of years, save for a few opportunistic sieges from the distant realms. Life wasn’t boring as such, but for anyone who sought adventure, there was little opportunity to do so. Google translate via Amahraic Viruses, It was after the days of Dedan, and the disgrace of their adulterers was forgotten with them and taken to the truth. For hundreds of years, in a wharf, it was human and secular times, with few exceptions except in a few suburbs. Life was not boring, but it was not a venture for anyone seeking adventure.
Nice, but you don't need to post the original, we just bask in the glory of Google's AS (Artificial Stupid) here
A bit more from the second version of Ragnar's recurring nightmare... Scots Gaelic is definitely the best for this game Emily was standing at the top of the wood at Joel's head, and she put it well. Joel went down before he had the opportunity to handle what happened to him. Emily raised the bow and the game. Ragnar was watching Joel. He was blood and did not move. "It would be killed in the background if you were running." "I know." "Siuthad. We need to get out of here." Ragnar Joel left there and followed Emily.
The moment when my favourite character gets himself shot with an arrow: Heughed the arrow in the shoulder, and hit enough strength to pull it. He came ashore on his back in the mud, pain moving through his coffin and his arm. It could forget to use that arm or hand at any time as soon as possible. Emily left one arrow and then another, but Ragnar did not look up. He took hold of his leg with his other hand and took hold of him, but everything he did would put the black feathers. The arrow was inserted into the bone. And when the protagonist then gets herself shot as well: Ragnar saw the arrow to be buried in the back of Emily, carried to her knees. The effect was in his band as a balloon player, but he moved on. Emily raised herself until she was in her knees, and saw the boy becoming increasingly stomach. Memory goes round her head in a brook running the wings, stopping it. He was buried all over the time: the dragons, the dökkálfar, getting burned, all of them. If he remembered it faster, he could stop it. It could have been saved. O Emily ... Ragnar could not get rid of it. His heart was too heavy.
The ending to the second version of Ragnar's nightmare (two down, two to go...) Ragnar forgot to take the phone, but near the loch, there was no need for a map. It was on the edge of the boiler, and the landscape of the earth would be sufficient to show it the way. He could again fold his shoulder; Pain spreads deep into his coffin and his arm. The rest of his body and spirit felt cold. He heard a wolf crying at a distance, and wanted to grind it, and hit things. And then he made a smile. He was sympathetic to a wolf. He has to be even further than he expected. He reached the edge of the loch, almost falling the last few feet when it came to the top of the trees. The calm water was smooth, a two-kilometer mirror wide, as if a large amount of air fell to ground. He had a sound wave to his knees, and he saw a face in the water, far apart and still looking dead. When he passed, he found the sky for any mark that the endless night was over, but there were none. He built the box and put the powder into the loch. It was done. He knew he was ready, but he promised Emily to return. He tried to rise, but pain fell through and fell back on his hands and knees, hearing crying and cursing. He still cursed when the volcano was destroyed.
I know we're not supposed to give any context - but hear me out guys: I was writing this scene where this guy throws this small box into a wall and the lid breaks. Google translate didn't think it was brutal enough! "Hell". At first, a whispering barely audible, then higher. "Hell!" He threw grace on the wall. When she fell to the ground, the hat was released from her jaws. "Why do not you say anything?" "Please calm down. It's just a dream." "It's not a damn dream, yes!" As soon as the words left her, he repented. He would not shout with him. Do not be angry. He took a deep breath before opening his mouth again. "How many days did you take the medicine?"
This is the first paragraph of my short story translated to Persian and back (it's about a 10-year-old boy): The bell rang and all went out of class. I almost did it to the exit, when someone kicked me, I and my wife were kicking. When I got up, I saw new kids sitting with their new friends, looking at me and laughing. Correct my book bag, I went to school and watched everyone on the bus lines on the line. They all talked and laughed and completely ignored what happened to me. I rushed, I passed through them and went home through the forest.
Current work on WIP: "How long are you here?" Shitshitshit, yourself, fuck you very much, it's an unforgettable Gateway, I'm out there, "and the pop was still there.
I put my story throgh a series of languages, becuase a simple translation isn't as funny. (Just simple word changes, nothing that new) So after going through japanese > german > shona, here's how my new story turned out: He identified himself with his young friend and his strong Bengali worship and announced his vengeance to his teacher, Mrs. Carmical, to take off his rifle in the school. "I wonder if the Maya ever had a tail, he really wanted a monkey," Carmin thought. He waited to close and inspected the site from a dangerous place. Many students went different ways. It was one of the hottest of February's hot day. The sun is burned at a depth of 90 degrees. Carmen's legs had already exploded from the heat.
