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Tradução 04: Príncipe Harry
Príncipe Harry disse que o Rei "não fala comigo porque da segurança" mas que ele não quer mais lutar e "não sei quanto tempo meu pai ainda tem".
O príncipe deu uma entrevista à BBC na Califórnia depois de perder um recurso sobre o nível de segurança a que ele e sua família têm direito a quando estão no Reino Unido.
Palácio de Buckingham reportou: "Todos esses casos foram examinado repetidamente e meticulosamente pelos tribunais, e a mesma conclusão foi alcançada cada ocasião."
May 2, 2025
May 2, 2025
May 2, 2025
May 2, 2025
Der erste Japanischunterricht
Ich hatte gestern unseren ersten Japanischunterricht mit meiner Nichte.
Zunächst habe ich ihr beigebracht, wie mann das Japanisch Alphabet (Hiragana) liest und schreibt.
Ich dachte, dass wir es in einer Stunde erledigen hätten können, aber es hat mehr Zeit gebraucht.
Meine Nichte lernt schnell und sie ist eine fleißige Studentin.
Sie ist so motivert, Japanisch zu lernen und das macht mich tatsächlich motiviert, ihr Japanisch zu unterrichten.
Ich habe ihr ein Japanisch Alphabet Lied vorgestellt, damit sie sich es schnell merken kann.
Es fiel mir gestern Abend schwer einzuschlafen, weil ich mir unseren nächsten Unterricht überlegt.
Ich habe nie gedacht, dass das Unterrichten mir so Spaß macht.
Ich dachte immer, ich kann nicht gut unterrichten.
May 2, 2025
May 2, 2025
May 2, 2025
A great day.
Today I was doing sightseeing uotside of Berlin, my family and I went to Postdam, it's a beautiful place wit a lot of palaces.
However we only cought visit one of them. Its called Sans Souci's Palace, it's a big house with large gardens, fontains and longer paths.
One thing that wondered me, was the public transport, what an efficient way. In berlin, you can buy seven days ticket and you will be able to take bus, tranvia, metro, urban train, ferry and outside train to closer cities. all in one so this city have the most efficient public transport sistem.
There is an urban mith in Latin Americ about the german people are sullen, but I noticed that it's a lie, they are nice very polite and beautiful.
I hope so know another places of this vibrant city next days.
May 2, 2025
May 2, 2025
Mein Alltag
Jeden Morgen, ich wach etwa um halb acht auf, danach ich meine Kleidung für der Tag wähle. Näschte, ich gehe zum Arbeit von acht Uhr morgens bis vier Uhr nachts. Zwischendurch meine Arbeit, ich hab viele schwerige Momenten, z.B, Menschen die ich nicht ihre Problem verstehe, oder mit anderen Mitarbeiter die ich nicht mag. Aber, nachher Arbeit, ich komm Heim an, am meisten durch die Autobahn, oder manchmal mit einem Bus. Ich spiele Videospiele oder lesen für ein paar Stunde oder so. Denn ich esse Abendessen gegen sechs Uhr nachts oder acht Uhr nachts danach ich um Mitnacht schlafe.
May 2, 2025
La télévision
J'ai vu que l'émission Merlin est sur M6 maintenant. Ça m'a fait sourire car c'est ma série préférée. J'aime le revoir tous les 2 ans (environ). C'est drôle, les acteurs ont un bon feeling ensemble, j'aime l'histoire (et la fantaisie en général) et c'est bien de regarder avec la famille / les enfants. C'est trop tôt pour moi de le regarder encore, mais je suis contente si plus de monde découvre cette série.
En ce moment, je revoir la série Grimm. C'est centré sur les contes des frères Grimm, avec un style moderne et différent. En plus, il prend lieu à Portland, Oregon où j'ai habité pendant plus de 12 ans. L'un des diners où ils ont souvent tourné était juste à côté d'un appartement où j'ai habité. J'aime aussi cette série, mais beaucoup moins que Merlin.
On va bientôt terminer Grimm, donc je dois trouver une autre série à regarder avec mon mari. Peut-être on terminera Dans la service de la France (on a commencé mais jamais terminé).
Je préfère toujours regarder les films ou les séries dans leur forme originale, donc, soit en anglais soit en français. Mon mari non, il préfère toujours en français. Même qu'il parle anglais couramment, il faut se concentrer (et toujours pas tout capté), qui gâche l'expérience un peu pour lui.
May 2, 2025
May 2, 2025
May 2, 2025
Der Leckerste Ding, den ich je probiert habe
Ich schreibe diesen Eintrag mit einer Zeitbeschränkung von 15 Minuten, teilweise weil ich habe eine echte Zeitbeschränkung und teilweise weil ich will ein bisschen Zeitverwalten üben will.
Ich meine ich kann es nicht vollends genau nennen, denn meine persönliche Erinnerungen werden schnell, fast sofort, trüb in meinem Gedächtnis. Aber was kommt sofort vor, ist als ich in Japan war, vor ungefähr sieben oder acht Jahren her. Japan war meine erste Reise ins Ausland, und zwar ich war damals auch nicht sehr viel durch mein Heimatland gereist. Was ich damit sagen will, vielleicht dieses Gericht war mir so lecker, nur weil ich dann nicht so viele Dinge probiert hatte.
Aber ja, ich hatte natürlich von diesen Steakhouses gehört und kannte auch den Ruf von Kobe als Weltspitz von Rindqualität her. Ich bin dahin gereist mit dem Zug, was auch natürlich super toll war. Ich könnte damals auch bessere Japanisch, ungefähr B1+. 'Gut genug, zu mir selbst ein Gefahr sein zu können' als ich oft darüber sage. Ich machte die kleinste Menge Nachsuchen, weil ich hielte es natürlich für vernünftig, zumindest ein bisschen davon zu tun. Leider bin ich da auch schwächer von Pläne her und hatte nicht so viel vor, in der Tat fast nichts vorher geplant. Aber wann ich angekommen war, rief ich ein Restaurant an und machte nach einem relativen anstrengenden Gespräch eine Reservierung, für eins, für den heutigen Abend.
Ich musste dann bloß die Zeit verbringen und war rum Kobe herumgelaufen, genau wie ich es am liebsten habe, um ein neues Stadt zu entdecken. Die Abend kam und ich war in die Restaurant. Ich war direkt am Bar gesessen, einer diesen Eisenplattengrills, die auf Japanisch 'teppanyaki' heißen. Die Restaurant war relativ leer aber nicht so leer das es einem stören würde. Nahezu an gemütlich, aber man würde nicht unbedingt gemütlich darüber sagen. Ich fühle mich vernehmlich, dass ich die Szene nicht sehr gut geschildert habe, aber es muss für die Moment reichen, denn meine Zeit is alle für heute.
Ich mache weiter mit dem nächsten Eintrag, und hoffentlich die Erzählung beende.
May 2, 2025
A minha manhã
Hoje tinha muitas coisas para fazer, mas estava com preguiça. Acordei cedo, tomei o café da manhã e li um pouco enquanto a chuva batia nas janelas. Eu acho que a tormenta foi uma das razões da minha preguiça. Só tinha vontade de ficar deitada no sofá durante toda a manhã. Mas depois de tomar banho, finalmente estudei um pouco. Agora estou me arrependendo de não ter feito tudo o que tinha que fazer de manhã, porque tenho que fazê-lo à tarde.
May 2, 2025
Deutsch sprechen
Es gibt in der Oberschule, bei der ich arbeite, eine deutsche Lehrer. Im Lehrerzimmer sind unsere Schriebtische nachbar. Als ich gestern weggegangen bin, habe ich ihr „gute Wochenende“ gesagt. Sie hat überrascht, und mir gesagt, dass ich „gutes Wochenende“ sagen soll. Ich habe gewöhnlich keine Gelegenheit, Deutsch zu sprechen, weshalb das mir einen Spaß gemacht.
May 2, 2025
May 2, 2025
我家乡 Hsk2
我家乡是一个在意大利农村的小地方，在一座大城市的北边。那里有山也有河，风景四季都很漂亮。虽然是小地方，但是很热闹，不吵， 这里肯定可以好休息。人们很友好，也很热情。
我小的时候每个周末跟我家人一起去那儿。我妈妈一直说，你一学完，就可以过去看朋友。那时候我很开心。上个星期我们回那儿，先去看了老朋友，然后进了我们的老家去，跟家人一起吃了饭。我已经去过很多地方了，但是这是我最喜欢的地方
(if you have any advice or something i could add to the text to make it better i'd love to read your suggestions ;)
May 2, 2025
May 2, 2025
Mon voyage en France
Récemment, j'ai voyage à un petit village Barjon en Bourgogne. J'y ai resté dans un château 2 semaines. C'étais mon premier fois en Bourgogne et avant le château j'ai voyagé à Dijon quelques jours.
Au château, j'y faisais du bénévolat. Je coupais les pierres à construire un mur et je faisais du jardinage. Il y avait plusieurs autres qui faisais du bénévolat. J'ai aimé le travail et d'ailleurs, on se parlais et partagais beaucoup tous les jours.
C'était mon trois fois faire du bénévolat en France. J'ai trouvé cette fois vraiment plus facile que le prémier. Quand on habite dans la maison d'étranger il y a plusieurs choses que seront peut-être difficule. J'ai appris de les experiences.
May 2, 2025
May 2, 2025
My Grandpa Is a Giant Schnauzer
Chapter Three: The Research Vessel
I wanted to bury Grandpa. As he asked. At sea.
He lay in the boat, covered with sailcloth. His hands — cold. His face — like he had simply fallen asleep.
I tried to lift him. Hooked my arms under his shoulders. It didn’t work. Too heavy. And I — too small.
"Don’t strain yourself," the dog said. "They’ll come. They’ll help."
I nodded. Then we went to the hatch.
The traces of digging were still there. The sand around it was loose, tamped down. If someone came close — they’d know.
"Pour water over it," the dog said. "Run to the boat, get the bag, fill it with water, and come back."
I did exactly that. Once back, I smoothed the sand and sprinkled the water gently. The sand darkened, settled.
"More branches," he said. "Old ones."
We found driftwood — dry, pale limbs torn loose by the storm. We scattered them around, casually. As if they’d been thrown up by the sea. On top — some seaweed. When we stepped back, it looked ordinary.
"A fire," the dog said. "We need smoke. They’ll see us then."
I fetched the flint from the boat. We gathered a pile: dry boards, broken pieces of the dryer, branches. The fire wouldn’t catch at first. I got frustrated, striking again and again. Then — suddenly — it flared up. Crackled, hissed. Smelled like home.
We ate. The food was strange. Tasted of fish and nuts.
The dog ate silently, glancing at me now and then. Then curled up nearby.
When darkness finally settled, I spread the sailcloth. It was warm by the fire. The dog — close. I closed my eyes, listening to him breathe.
By morning, the smoke had nearly faded. But Grandpa woke me.
“He’s coming.”
“What? Who?”
The dog was watching the horizon. Out there — a dot. White. A ship.
I rushed to the fire. There was hardly any dry wood left, but I ran along the shore and found a few boards broken by the storm. I tossed them onto the flames. On top — some branches with green leaves still clinging. The smoke rose in a pillar. Thick, grey. Impossible to miss.
We stood side by side — me and my Grandpa. He sniffed the air slightly, as if sensing: everything was about to change.
The ship dropped anchor about three hundred meters from shore. Its white hull gleamed in the sun. Antennas above the bridge, a flag, a pair of lifebuoys. A boat unhooked from the side — inflatable, with a motor, the color of sunset. Five people in it: two men in matching jackets, and three in life vests — two women and one older man with glasses and silver hair.
The boat sliced through the water, hurrying to meet the land.
I stood by the fire. The dog sat next to me, looking straight ahead. I wrapped my arms around his neck. My hands were damp, but not from fear — more from how fast everything was happening.
When the boat came closer, one of the sailors jumped into the water and grabbed the side. The engine cut. The boat’s nose bumped the shallows. They all climbed ashore and pulled it further up.
The first to speak was a woman. Ash-blonde hair tied back, a serious face, no makeup. Her voice — firm, but quiet:
“May we approach?”
I nodded. The dog raised his ears, but didn’t move.
The woman stepped onto the sand. Behind her — a younger woman, in a bright windbreaker, a camera strapped to her chest. The others stayed by the boat.
“My name is Louise,” she said. “We received the signal. We’ve come for you.”
I nodded again. Words felt unnecessary.
“Are you… are you alone here?”
I pointed toward the boat. Beneath the sailcloth, my grandfather lay.
Louise looked. She didn’t ask anything. Just nodded softly. Her companion — the one with the camera — snapped a quiet shot. Then lowered it.
“What’s your name?” Louise asked.
I opened my mouth, but no real words came out. And then — as if it was the only thing left to do — I cried.
At first, silently. Then in gasps. Then for real.
I sat down in the sand, pressed my face into the dog’s fur. He didn’t move. Only gently touched my cheek with his nose.
Louise didn’t touch me. She just crouched nearby. The younger one stood beside her.
“It’s all right,” she said at last. “I’m Arina. We’re here.”
I nodded. Through tears. Through shaking. Because it was true — they were here.
And Grandpa… he was still here too. Sitting next to me. Breathing. Looking people in the eyes. And keeping watch.
“We need to bury Grandpa,” I said. “He asked… to be returned to the sea.”
I tried. I really did. But he was too heavy — I finally admitted through the tears.
The rest of it passed in a fog.
Two sailors — one thin, with reddish whiskers and glasses, the other broad-shouldered, dark-skinned, his brow lined like folded sails — just nodded. No questions. They looked at me, and somehow, they understood everything.
They wrapped Grandpa’s body carefully in the sailcloth. Slipped in a few flat stones — heavy, like all the unspoken wishes he had left behind. Tied the cloth tight with marine knots, clean and firm.
The dog, the two men, and I got into our old boat. The inflatable stayed on shore. This was our farewell.
We rowed out to where the water deepened. It was dark here. Quiet. As if the sea was preparing to take him back.
I sat at the stern with the dog. The boat rocked gently. No one spoke. Only the sound of oars and the creak of worn wood.
“All right. Say your goodbyes,” the red-haired one said. His voice was low, but steady.
I hugged the bundle — not tightly, just like before. The dog nudged it too, resting his muzzle on my knees.
Then, gently, the men lifted him and let go.
The sailcloth floated briefly, hesitated… then sank, as if it knew the way. A trail of bubbles rose behind him.
The dog and I watched the spot for a long time. We just sat there. Like after a conversation that’s ended, but still echoes inside. The sailors rowed back in silence.
On shore, they flipped the boat, looped the rope twice around a root — the kind of knot you tie when you plan to return. Or when you do something right. For real. Like professionals — not thinking, just knowing.
While we were gone, the rest of the crew had explored the shoreline. They gathered what they could — signs of the storm, broken things. Somewhere they found Aunt Miriam’s cloth doll, half-buried in the sand. Arina captured it all on her camera.
We climbed into the inflatable boat. The island shrank behind us. The smoke from our fire still drifted upward, as if waving goodbye.
We moved swiftly across the water, the surface smooth as glass. The boat barely bounced on the waves, as if the sea itself was carrying us gently toward a new chapter.
On board, everything smelled of iron, salt, and rope. The metal steps burned under the sun, the lines were wet and heavy. Around us, people moved quickly: someone tossed the anchor line, someone checked a tablet, someone else stood ready with a first-aid kit.
It was noisy — but not frightening.
Like being inside a machine that knew exactly what it was doing.Everything was loud, but not frightening — like a well-oiled machine at work.
I stood in my life jacket, still wearing my torn shirt, the dog pressed to my side. I didn’t know where to look. I wanted to hold Grandpa’s hand — just to keep myself from drifting inward.
Louise placed a hand on my shoulder — firm, but without pressure. She turned me toward the people waiting at the top of the steps.
“This is Captain Jules Branc,” she said.
The man had graying temples, neat mustache, a tired face. He nodded. He didn’t smile, but looked at me steadily — almost fatherly. I held out my hand. He shook it firmly, then smiled.
“Doctor Manuel Serrano,” Louise continued.
A short man with gentle eyes and fingers that looked like they were afraid to break anything. He said nothing, just studied my face and smiled as well.
“Christian Oberon — our technician,” she added, motioning to a tall man with a short beard. He nodded to me silently.
“And this is Maren Jacquet,” she said.
A freckled redhead with broad shoulders. He crouched and held out a hand to the dog.
“What’s your name, buddy?”
The dog didn’t answer. Just stared. But didn’t look away.
“And Remi Legrand,” the captain added. Remi, like the others, shook my hand.
Then the doctor examined me again. He listened to my chest, tapped my back. Said I was fine. Hungry — yes. Exhausted — yes. But alive. And that’s what mattered.
“He just needs to eat,” the doctor said.
I didn’t quite understand what he meant, but I nodded.
Louise led me across the deck.
“Come on. I’ll show you the ship.”
She showed me where things were: how the hatches opened, where the galley was, the mess hall, the common spaces. She spoke calmly — not like I was a child, but like I was one of the crew.
“For now, you’ll stay with me,” she said. “It’ll be easier. I understand your language better than the others.”
I just nodded.
In the mess hall, they were already waiting. They brought simple food: a bit of rice, stewed fish, some bread. It smelled good. Louise told me to eat slowly — you shouldn’t eat too much after going hungry.
The dog ate beside me, straight from a bowl on the floor.
Then we went to the cabin. Small, light. Two bunks: one made up, the other stacked with books and boxes. “It’s yours now,” Louise said, clearing the bunk.
“Go ahead and change — we’ll get your clothes washed.”
I took everything off and handed it to her. She nodded silently and told me to wrap myself in a sheet for now. Then she left with my bundle.
I slipped under the sheet, bare. The dog immediately jumped in beside me. He lay down close, resting his head on my legs.
I fell asleep instantly. I don’t remember any sounds, any feelings.
It was like someone switched me off.
I woke to find the dog sitting next to me, watching me, unmoving — like he had stood guard the whole time.
On the table lay a cloth doll — clean. Miriam’s. The same one. Now — mine.
The dog gave a soft bark. The door creaked open. Louise peeked in.
“How are you?”
I nodded.
She came in, sat down on the edge of the bunk, and held out some clothes.
“Try these on,” she said. “Yours are still drying.”
The shirt was red, with letters across the front. I couldn’t read them — not in this language.
The shorts were clearly someone else’s — too soft, with a button on the side. Someone had stitched them tighter so they wouldn’t fall off.
Then she gave me sneakers.
“I’m better barefoot,” I said.
“The deck gets hot,” she replied. “Trust me — in an hour you’ll ask for shoes yourself.”
I shrugged but put them on.
Then she started talking — about the ship, the people here, what would happen next.
I nodded. Listened.
Sometimes I looked at the dog.
He understood everything.
“This is a research vessel,” she said. “We study the Sargasso Sea. Try to save what’s left of the ocean.”
“Why try?” I asked. “Why not just save it?”
She shrugged.
“Because it takes a lot of money. And we don’t have much. Just enough to study.”
I thought about that. Then said:
“What if I help?”
She smiled, like it was a joke. But I didn’t smile back.
“I have treasure. Gold. A lot.”
That made her quiet.
“What treasure?”
I looked at the dog. He didn’t move — just watched me.
“My grandpa’s. He found it. Hid it in a cave. I can show you.”
Louise didn’t say anything. Just watched as I reached under the pillow and pulled out the little bundle.
It was tied tight so it wouldn’t rattle.
I untied it carefully.
The coins slid into my palm. I picked one — smooth, with a crown and little letters along the edge — and held it out to her.
She took it gently, like it might break. Looked at it. Then gave it back.
She didn’t say a word. Just left.
She came back with the captain.
“May I?” he asked.
I nodded.
He took the coin, brought it close to his eyes. Turned it over slowly. Then looked at Louise.
“Back to the island. Now. Before it gets dark.”
They left quickly. I heard their footsteps on the deck. Then a siren — one long, low sound. The captain’s voice came through the speaker:
“Changing course. Back to shore. Full turn.”
The ship began to turn. In the distance, the outline of L’Île-Échouée returned.
The sky was turning pink.
The water looked like melted metal.
We weren’t going back for hope this time.
We were going back because we knew.
The ship dropped anchor in the same lagoon.
The first boat went with the captain, Louise, two sailors, and the doctor.
I was in the second boat.
The dog pressed his nose into my palm — like he knew something big was about to happen.
When we landed, almost everyone was already there — all looking at me.
“Show us,” the captain said.
I led them up the hill — to the place Grandpa and I had dug.
I pushed aside the branches. Pointed.
They started digging. First with hands, then with shovels from the boat.
Not long after, the hatch showed through the sand — damp, closed.
“This it?” the captain asked.
I nodded.
They pried it open together.
Damp air rose from below.
Captain Jules Branc turned on his flashlight and went down first.
We waited.
Then we heard his voice:
“You won’t believe it.”
Louise and Arina followed.
I stayed up top, holding on to the dog’s fur.
Then came the shouting:
“We found it! Full crates! Coins! Rings! Some kind of map!”
They went down one by one. Carefully.
Nothing was touched.
Everything was logged.
But even from above — I could see.
It was real.
Shelves with gold and copper and silver.
Chests with carved lids.
Necklaces. Odd-shaped bars.
Boxes. Little statues.
All dry.
All waiting.
“Five million easy,” someone said. “Maybe more.”
When they came back up, the captain looked at me.
“You found this?”
I nodded. Then said:
“It’s Grandpa’s.”
The captain took off his hat. Ran a hand through his hair.
“We’ll call in the archaeologists. Everything needs to be logged properly.
Seal the hatch. No one goes back down until they arrive.”
He turned to the others.
“We’ll set up camp right here — at the entrance.
We keep watch in shifts.
Seal the hatch. Make sure it holds.”
That evening we pitched the tents.
Boiled tea.
The dog curled up by the fire. I lay beside him.
The fire crackled.
And in the dark, metal rings and rope-wrapped crates glinted —
as if the island was waking up again.
But this time — with our footprints.
With our story.
To be continued...
May 2, 2025
May 2, 2025
Zevkli bir gün
Fransada dün bir tatildi. Doğada dolaştıp biraz leylak kopardım. Güneş parlıyordum, ormanın ağaçları sağlıklıdı. Birkaç yıl önce, kuraklık yüzünden ağaçlar hasta olduğukları hatırlıyorum. Leylaktan çok hoşlaniyorum: bu çiçek güzel ve çok iyi kokar! Bu gün çok zevklidi. En küçük şeyler sık sık yaşamın en büyük keyfleri!
May 2, 2025
El Día del Trabajador
Actualmente en Francia, estamos aprovechando un fin de semana de cuatro días.
Ayer, el 1 de mayo, fue un día festivo por el Día del Trabajador.
Como era un jueves, mucha gente eligió tomar un día de vacaciones hoy para hacer un fin de semana más largo.
Aquí eso se llama "un puente".
¿Hay una palabra específica para esto en español?
19:14:28 (UTC)
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