تطبيقات عملية في اللغة الانجليزية .

[اوديسا]

Be patient if you are an anvil. Be swift if you are a hammer

كن صبورا إذا كنت السندان. يكون سريعا إذا كنت مطرقة


اوديسا مابيعرف

[اوديسا]

همة همة همة انا اقولك فيه شيء ناقص انه ليس واضح مطلوبك ..

انا اقول كيف تتقال في العربيه

حتى لو بالعاميه
انا بتكلم عن جد

[همة همة همة]

المشاركة الأصلية كتبت بواسطة اوديسا be patient if you are an anvil. Be swift if you are a hammer كن صبورا إذا كنت السندان. يكون سريعا إذا كنت مطرقة اوديسا مابيعرف

اخيرا عرفت مطلوبك

طيب انا اقولك اش رايك تضع هذا المثل في موضوع خاص ويكون هو العنوان وتكتب مطلوبك مثل مافهمت
وراح تلقى الكثير من يساعدك لان اسم موضوعك مبهم ..





اقولك الي فهمته من المثل وسوف ابحث ..لكن لماذا لاتبحث في قاموس المورد في قسم الامثال الانجليزية قد تجده ..

كن صبورا مثل صبر خشب السندان في قوة الطرق عليه بالمطرقة ..
لكن هو بالمطرقة وانت بالهمموم وطلب العلم وضيم الحياة





تحيتي لكم

[اوديسا]

الرساله وصلت شكرا همه همه همه ننتظر Success Key وحاول لاتكتب تعليق وتحذفه واشكرك شكرا جزيلا على ماتفضلة به--- التعليق اللى كتبته قرأته وماتفرق عندى بالعكس الكمال للخالق

No land without stones or meat without bones

[همة همة همة]

المشاركة الأصلية كتبت بواسطة اوديسا الرساله وصلت شكرا همه همه همه ننتظر success key وحاول لاتكتب تعليق وتحذفه واشكرك شكرا جزيلا على ماتفضلة به--- التعليق اللى كتبته قرأته وماتفرق عندى بالعكس الكمال للخالق

أضحك الله سنك اخي الكريم اوديسا
انا اختك همة وليس رجل


حذفت التعليق لانه زايد ووضحت الفكرة والمطلوب منك ..فماكان له لزمه

وان نسخته(أنت) فلا أمانع بعودته مرة اخرى ..ولا أحرج عليك في ذلك

ويسر الله لك امرك

[اوديسا]

No land without stones or meat without bones

[همة همة همة]

لكن اش تقصد ب ننتظر Success Key

[اوديسا]

Success Key can help those who are haves-not

[اوديسا]

شكل له ثمانية أضلاع، محيطه يساوي (15) وحدة طولية.

إذا زدنا طول كل ضلع بمقدار وحدة ونصف،
فما محيط الشكل الجديد؟ 16.5 23 25 27

[Success key]

المشاركة الأصلية كتبت بواسطة اوديسا Assalamu alaikum wa rahmatu Allah wa barakatuh The Poem - A Psalm of Life Tell me not in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou are, to dust thou returnest, Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each tomorrow Find us farther than today. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife! Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! Let the dead Past bury its dead! Act, - act in the living Present! Heart within, and God o'erhead! Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sand of time; Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solenm main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again. Let us then be up and doing, With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait. -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

wa alikom alslam wa rahmah Allah wa brakatuh

Let the dead Past bury its dead!

Act, - act in the living Present!

We can make our lives sublime,

The poem contains different lessons on life. The poet's message was clear which is the life is beautiful and we have to live the present. For the poem's style: I love the lyrical lines.

Mending Wall by Robert Frost Something there is that doesn't love a wall, That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it, And spills the upper boulders in the sun; And makes gaps even two can pass abreast. The work of hunters is another thing: I have come after them and made repair Where they have left not one stone on a stone, But they would have the rabbit out of hiding, To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean, No one has seen them made or heard them made, But at spring mending-time we find them there. I let my neighbor know beyond the hill; And on a day we meet to walk the line And set the wall between us once again. We keep the wall between us as we go. To each the boulders that have fallen to each. And some are loaves and some so nearly balls We have to use a spell to make them balance: 'Stay where you are until our backs are turned!' We wear our fingers rough with handling them. Oh, just another kind of outdoor game, One on a side. It comes to little more: There where it is we do not need the wall: He is all pine and I am apple orchard. My apple trees will never get across And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him. He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors.' Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder If I could put a notion in his head: 'Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it Where there are cows? But here there are no cows. Before I built a wall I'd ask to know What I was walling in or walling out, And to whom I was like to give offense. Something there is that doesn't love a wall, That wants it down.' I could say 'Elves' to him, But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather He said it for himself. I see him there Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed. He moves in darkness as it seems to me, Not of woods only and the shade of trees. He will not go behind his father's saying, And he likes having thought of it so well He says again, 'Good fences make good neighbors.'

He says again, 'Good fences make good neighbors

For this poem, I like the way that the poet used it to represent his idea which "individual identity depends on respect for boundaries. "

!! Sailing To Byzantium

I That is no country for old men. The young In one another's arms, birds in the trees ---Those dying generations---at their song, The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas, Fish, flesh, or fowl commend all summer long Whatever is begotten, born, and dies. Caught in that sensual music all neglect Monuments of unaging intellect. II An aged man is but a paltry thing, A tattered coat upon a stick, unless Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing For every tatter in its mortal dress, Nor is there singing school but studying Monuments of its own magnificence; And therefore I have sailed the seas and come To the holy city of Byzantium. III O sages standing in God's holy fire As in the gold mosaic of a wall, Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre, And be the singing-masters of my soul. Consume my heart away; sick with desire And fastened to a dying animal It knows not what it is; and gather me Into the artifice of eternity. IV Once out of nature I shall never take My bodily form from any natural thing, But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make Of hammered gold and gold enamelling To keep a drowsy Emperor awake; Or set upon a golden bough to sing To lords and ladies of Byzantium Of what is past, or passing, or to come. William Butler Yeats

From the title: Sailing evokes the journey that every person makes through life

Generally, the poem is concerned with growing old.

$$ My Mind to Me a Kingdom Is Sir Edward Dyer (d. 1607) MY mind to me a kingdom is; Such present joys therein I find, That it excels all other bliss That earth affords or grows by kind: Though much I want that most would have, 5 Yet still my mind forbids to crave. No princely pomp, no wealthy store, No force to win the victory, No wily wit to salve a sore, No shape to feed a loving eye; 10 To none of these I yield as thrall; For why? my mind doth serve for all. I see how plenty surfeits oft, And hasty climbers soon do fall; I see that those which are aloft 15 Mishap doth threaten most of all: They get with toil, they keep with fear: Such cares my mind could never bear. Content I live, this is my stay; I seek no more than may suffice; 20 I press to bear no haughty sway; Look, what I lack my mind supplies. Lo, thus I triumph like a king, Content with that my mind doth bring. Some have too much, yet still do crave; 25 I little have, and seek no more. They are but poor, though much they have, And I am rich with little store; They poor, I rich; they beg, I give; They lack, I leave; they pine, I live. 30 I laugh not at another’s loss, I grudge not at another’s gain; No worldly waves my mind can toss; My state at one doth still remain: I fear no foe, I fawn no friend; 35 I loathe not life, nor dread my end. Some weigh their pleasure by their lust, Their wisdom by their rage of will; Their treasure is their only trust, A cloakèd craft their store of skill; 40 But all the pleasure that I find Is to maintain a quiet mind. My wealth is health and perfect ease, My conscience clear my chief defence; I neither seek by bribes to please, 45 Nor by deceit to breed offence: Thus do I live; thus will I die; Would all did so as well as I!

This Poem expresses the simple satisfaction and minimalism that the mind brings.