Steam'i Yükleyin
giriş
|
dil
简体中文 (Basitleştirilmiş Çince)
繁體中文 (Geleneksel Çince)
日本語 (Japonca)
한국어 (Korece)
ไทย (Tayca)
Български (Bulgarca)
Čeština (Çekçe)
Dansk (Danca)
Deutsch (Almanca)
English (İngilizce)
Español - España (İspanyolca - İspanya)
Español - Latinoamérica (İspanyolca - Latin Amerika)
Ελληνικά (Yunanca)
Français (Fransızca)
Italiano (İtalyanca)
Bahasa Indonesia (Endonezce)
Magyar (Macarca)
Nederlands (Hollandaca)
Norsk (Norveççe)
Polski (Lehçe)
Português (Portekizce - Portekiz)
Português - Brasil (Portekizce - Brezilya)
Română (Rumence)
Русский (Rusça)
Suomi (Fince)
Svenska (İsveççe)
Tiếng Việt (Vietnamca)
Українська (Ukraynaca)
Bir çeviri sorunu bildirin
St. Patrick was a gentleman
who through strategy and stealth
drove all the snakes from Ireland.
Here's a toasting to his health --
but not too many toastings
lest you lose yourself and then
forget the good St. Patrick
and see all those snakes again.
Bit off more than my mind could chew,
Shower or suicide, what do I do?
-- Julie Brown, "Will I Make it Through the Eighties?"
Once again dread deed is done.
Canon sleeps,
his all-knowing eye shade
🍇 -- ⚡ -- ⛳ -- 🌂 -- 👔 -- 🎫 -- 🐛 -- 🚗 -- 😺 -- 🍆 -- 👽 -- 🐝 -- 🍖 -- 💄 -- 👃