shift-mouse-wheel - change translation's lang
mobile device - move right / left - change translation's lang
click row head - toggle truncate paragraph
click wordform - new query for this wordform
note - diglossa.js is a desktop application. Here you see only examples of multy-language dictionaries, generated with it. Download and install, it's free
params description: https://github.com/nextapps-de/flexsearch
Mit Singen, Weinen, Lachen und Brummen lobe ich den Gott, der mein Gott ist.
'Oh, you sing,' said the Gryphon. 'I've forgotten the words.'
– Tutti i ragazzi, quando vogliono ottenere qualcosa, ripetono la medesima storia.
cantando 'Miserere' a verso a verso.
Or il ne s'agit pas seulement de dessins représentatifs (cf. figure 19, p. 123) montrant un homme ou un singe, mais de schémas décrivant, expliquant, écrivant une généalogie et une structure sociale.
– Tu entends, dit le petit prince, nous réveillons ce puits et il chante...
"Ich kann auch die Opferlieder," sagte Siddhartha, "aber ich will sie nicht mehr singen.
"Sing," and Linda sang.
He could hear the woman singing and the scrape of her shoes on the flagstones, and the cries of the children in the street, and somewhere in the far distance a faint roar of traffic, and yet the room seemed curiously silent, thanks to the absence of a telescreen.
"You’ll be singing a different tune soon enough, Hermione," said Fred, thickly buttering a crumpet. "You’re starting your fifth year, you’ll be begging us for a Snackbox before long."
Singen nämlich ist für Genesende; der Gesunde mag reden.
Sing her "Turtle Soup," will you, old fellow?'
E perchè gli era entrato addosso una gran paura, si provò a canterellare per farsi un po’ di coraggio.
cantando, con colui dal maschio naso,
"Abwärts geht es mit dir!" sagte er zu sich selber, und lachte dazu, und wie er es sagte, fiel sein Blick auf den Fluß, und auch den Fluß sah er abwärts gehen, immer abwärts wandern, und dabei singen und fröhlich sein.
Blithe was the singing of the young girls over their test-tubes, the Predestinators whistled as they worked, and in the Decanting Room what glorious jokes were cracked above the empty bottles!
On the sixth day of Hate Week, after the processions, the speeches, the shouting, the singing, the banners, the posters, the films, the waxworks, the rolling of drums and squealing of trumpets, the tramp of marching feet, the grinding of the caterpillars of tanks, the roar of massed planes, the booming of guns – after six days of this, when the great orgasm was quivering to its climax and the general hatred of Eurasia had boiled up into such delirium that if the crowd could have got their hands on the two thousand Eurasian war-criminals who were to be publicly hanged on the last day of the proceedings, they would unquestionably have torn them to pieces – at just this moment it had been announced that Oceania was not after all at war with Eurasia.
One of them was singing a loud, crude song.