她太瘦了。

She was so thin.

Source: Tatoeba

穿那么薄会感冒的。

You'll catch cold in such thin clothing.

Source: Tatoeba

她衣衫單薄，恐會著涼。

She wore such thin clothes that she might well catch a cold.

Source: Tatoeba

干柴燒得旺。

Dry wood burns well.

Source: Tatoeba

孔子說："像夏禹的為人，我找不到可以指責的漏洞。自己吃著菲薄的飲食，而卻用豐厚祭品祭拜祖先與神明；自己平時穿粗劣的衣裳，而在祭祀時穿戴華服禮帽；自己住小房子，卻盡力開通水道溝渠。像夏禹這樣的人，我實在找不到可以指責的漏洞了。"

Confucius said: " Yu the Great's conduct, I could not point out any flaws. He consumes meager amount of food, while offering boastful riches to the Gods and ancestors; He always don the crudest attire, but wears lavish garments when worshipping; He resides in a small house, yet forges water ways and ditches with all his might. Figures like Yu the Great, I honestly cannot point out any reprehensible flaws."

Source: Tatoeba

新的旗袍又修长又紧身，也有短裙摆，与传统式样构成了鲜明的对比。

Slender and form-fitting with a high cut, the new qipao contrasted sharply with the traditional one.

Source: Tatoeba

说苗条比说瘦更有礼貌。

It's more polite to say thin than skinny.

Source: Tatoeba

狐狸躲在了空心樹裏面。

The fox hid in the hollow tree.

Source: Tatoeba

没有他我的生活是空虚的。

My life is hollow without him.

Source: Tatoeba

現在是 2025 年 8 月 3 日，露露島。晚餐後，陽光下嫩綠的無花果，昨天醃製的甜醋，還有重新加熱的阿爾弗雷多義麵，我坐在陽台上，望著那棵針葉樹。樓下靜謐無聲，街道空無一車，一片悠閒。我的冰鎮青檸水在陽光下閃閃發光。最近，我常和那位法丹混血的 UFO 研究專家麥可聊天。我們談論內心深處的事情：智慧型裝置的迷醉，以及思維的衰退。他說，咖啡館已經不再是咖啡館了。人們忘記如何觀察、如何駐足停留。我跟他講起在日本的亞瑟，他會像僧侶凝視虛空一樣，對著空白的牆壁發呆。最近，我讓機器像詩人一樣說話，它們真的做到了。它們模仿伊莉莎白時代的詩歌，以及塔加洛語民謠中那古老而憂傷的韻律。我沿著通往蒂姆霍頓咖啡店的小路採摘黑莓。我像個孩子似的喊道：「莫拉！」我的朋友莫拉，她血液裡流著安地斯山脈的薄霧，她會笑的。今天，我買了黃檸檬。我本來想買青檸，但黃檸檬也可以。/ 黑莓的清晨 / 指尖殘留無花果的痕跡 / 街道依然沉睡

It's Lulu Island, 3 August 2025. After supper—green figs tender with sunlight, sweet vinegar from yesterday’s pickled jar, and reheated Alfredo—I sat on the balcony and watched the conifer. Stillness below, a street without cars, without haste. My lime water, iced, caught the light. Michael, the Franco-Danish ufologist, has been in my conversations lately. We speak of inner things: the trance of smart devices, the mind’s eye dwindling. He says cafés aren’t cafés anymore. People forget how to look, how to linger. I tell him of Arthur in Japan—how he'd stare into blank walls like a monk gazing at emptiness. Lately I ask machines to speak like poets, and they do. They mimic Elizabethan verses and the old wistful lilt of Tagalog ballads. I pick blackberries along the path to Tim Hortons. "¡Moras!" I shout like a child. My friend Mora, whose blood flows with Andes mist, would smile. Today, I bought lemons. I meant limes, but lemons are all right. / blackberry morning— / a fig's ghost on my fingers / and the street still sleeps

Source: Tatoeba

花瓣浮在水面上。

The petals are floating on the water.

Source: Tatoeba