Nainstalovat Steam
přihlásit se
|
jazyk
简体中文 (Zjednodušená čínština)
繁體中文 (Tradiční čínština)
日本語 (Japonština)
한국어 (Korejština)
ไทย (Thajština)
български (Bulharština)
Dansk (Dánština)
Deutsch (Němčina)
English (Angličtina)
Español-España (Evropská španělština)
Español-Latinoamérica (Latin. španělština)
Ελληνικά (Řečtina)
Français (Francouzština)
Italiano (Italština)
Bahasa Indonesia (Indonéština)
Magyar (Maďarština)
Nederlands (Nizozemština)
Norsk (Norština)
Polski (Polština)
Português (Evropská portugalština)
Português-Brasil (Brazilská portugalština)
Română (Rumunština)
Русский (Ruština)
Suomi (Finština)
Svenska (Švédština)
Türkçe (Turečtina)
Tiếng Việt (Vietnamština)
Українська (Ukrajinština)
Nahlásit problém s překladem
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠠⡰⣕⣗⣷⣧⣀⣅⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣠⣳⣟⣿⣿⣷⣿⡿⣜⠄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠄⣳⢷⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣝⠖⠄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠄⢢⡹⣿⢷⣯⢿⢷⡫⣗⠍⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⡏⢀⢄⠤⣁⠋⠿⣗⣟⡯⡏⢎⠁⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⠄⢔⢕⣯⣿⣿⡲⡤⡄⡤⠄⡀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⠇⠠⡳⣯⣿⣿⣾⢵⣫⢎⢎⠆⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⠄⢨⣫⣿⣿⡿⣿⣻⢎⡗⡕⡅⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⠄⢜⢾⣾⣿⣿⣟⣗⢯⡪⡳⡀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⠄⢸⢽⣿⣷⣿⣻⡮⡧⡳⡱⡁⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⡄⢨⣻⣽⣿⣟⣿⣞⣗⡽⡸⡐⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⡇⢀⢗⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣞⡵⡣⣊⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⡀⡣⣗⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡯⡺⣼⠎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
In a world of challenges, where life demands,
There lived a lad named Ryan, with sticky hands.
No matter where he wandered, trouble would find,
His palms stuck fast, a predicament unkind.
From morning's rise to twilight's fall,
Ryan faced a struggle, an unyielding thrall.
His fingers clung to objects with sheer might,
A touch, a grasp, became a daily fight.
At breakfast, the spoon clung to his grip,
The cereal bowl escaped with a slip.
His toys, his books, his cherished play,
All held captive in his glue-like display.
But Ryan, resilient, faced the test,
With a spirit that refused to rest.
He sought solutions, both far and wide,
To shed his sticky curse and turn the tide.
Seeking remedies across distant ages.
Yet potions and spells proved naught but a ruse,
His hands remained trapped, a daily abuse.
Undeterred, he sought knowledge anew,
In books of science, wisdom grew.
He studied adhesive properties,
Seeking to unlock newfound possibilities.
With experiments in his secret lab,
He mixed concoctions, a hopeful stab.
He tested potions, oils, and more,
Seeking a cure, a way to restore.
Through trial and error, he found his grace,
A potion concocted in the right embrace.
A balm of kindness, self-belief in his hands,
And Ryan discovered a strength that expands.
His sticky hands, now a source of light.
Embracing the challenge with unwavering will,
Ryan found strength, an unbreakable skill.
He used his gift to touch others' lives,
To lend a hand, where kindness thrives.
His touch became a symbol of care,
His sticky hands, a burden turned rare.
Through perseverance and a heart so kind,
Ryan's sticky hands no longer confined.
He taught us all, in his triumphant plight,
That struggles can be transformed to delight.
So let us remember, in Ryan's tale,
That even when life seems to assail,
We hold the power to overcome,
And turn the sticky into a source of sun.