姆 - Zhictionary

Seven months ago, chefs from a Lebanese social enterprise named Souk el Tayeb began teaching the women new cooking skills, including such traditional dishes as samke harra — fish stuffed with pine nuts, coriander and chili sauce — and ma'amoul cookies.

Source: Tatoeba

「我认为提姆霍顿斯咖啡馆和星巴克咖啡馆的菜单上应该有蓝莓冰茶。」「这主意太棒了！蓝莓冰茶正好赶上了水果茶的潮流。水果茶甜味中略带酸味。提姆霍顿斯可以利用已有的浑厚冰茶基础，而星巴克可以很容易地将蓝莓冰茶融入他们的摇匀冰茶和清凉饮料系列中。」

"I think that Tim Hortons café and Starbucks café should have blueberry iced tea on their menu." "That's a refreshing idea! A blueberry iced tea would fit perfectly with the trend of fruit-infused teas that balance sweetness with a bit of tartness. Tim Hortons already has a strong iced tea base they could use, while Starbucks could easily fold it into their lineup of shaken iced teas and refreshers."

Source: Tatoeba

今天是 2025 年 7 月 3 日，阳光明媚。7 月 7日是日本的七夕。今天早上，在露露岛上，我两次去了提姆霍顿斯咖啡馆，先是点了燕麦奶冰咖啡，然后又点了草莓西瓜气泡饮配香肠捲。我还去了「蛤蜊寺」。路上，我瞥了一眼迷人的竹林。一位老人在竹林旁挖了几个坑，用吃剩的芒果和樱桃堆肥。在咖啡馆裡，我和格雷格聊了起来。格雷格是个白人，他梦想着和他的日本妻子在北海道钏路开一家民宿。那裡的特色是当地的阿伊努族人和沼泽地。今天，剃着光头的格雷格穿着米色 T 恤和米色短裤，也许带着一丝恰巴卡诺酒的韵味？

It's a sunny 3rd of July of 2025. On the 7th will be the Star Festival—Tanabata—in Japan. This morning, here on Lulu Island, I strolled to Tim Hortons café twice—Iced Coffee with oat milk, then Strawberry Watermelon Sparkling Quencher with a Sausage Farmer's Wrap. I went to the "Clam Temple." On the way, I glanced at the charming bamboo grove. An old man had dug holes beside it to put compost—eaten mangoes and cherries. At the café, I spoke to Greg, the white man who eventually wants to own a B&B in Kushiro, Hokkaido, with his Japanese wife. The native Ainu and marshes are attractions there. Today, head-shaven Greg is wearing a beige T-shirt and beige shorts—maybe a hint of Chabacano?

Source: Tatoeba

2025 年 5 月 14 日，天空多云，间或有蓝色空间。我两次走到圣奥尔本斯路上的罗马天主教堂，一次在早上，一次在下午，这是我今年春天第 12 次和第 13 次。早上，穿着制服的小男孩和小女孩们在宽敞的礼拜堂裡忏悔。他们来自不同的种族。神父在告解室和一个学生交谈。在崇拜小堂，我注意到左前方有一盆漂亮的兰花。下午，宽敞的礼拜堂几乎空无一人，我通常更喜欢这种状态。路边有个穿着白色背心的英俊肌肉男在慢跑。那棵开着紫色花朵的大树看起来像一棵皇后树，一棵泡桐，因为它有着大大的心形叶子。它让我想起开着紫色花朵的蓝花楹，让我对南美洲充满了怀念。在提姆霍顿斯咖啡馆，我早上享用了香肠马铃薯炒蛋和一杯燕麦奶伯爵茶，下午又喝了一杯经典冰柠檬水。这一天我都在散步。在家，我学习了一些逻辑语和世界语。我有很多世界语书籍。我的融合主义倾向是万物有灵论和佛教。

This 14th of May of 2025 is cloudy skies interspersed with blue spaces. I walked to the Roman Catholic church on St. Albans Road twice, once in the morning and again in the afternoon, my 12th and 13th times this spring. In the morning was confession for the little boys and girls in uniform. They were of different races, in the big worship hall. The priest was in the confession booth talking to a student. At the Adoration Chapel, I noticed a nice pot of orchids on the front left. In the afternoon, the big worship hall was mostly empty, a condition which I usually prefer. At the road was a handsome muscle man in white tank top jogging. The big purple-bloom tree seems like an Empress Tree, a Paulownia, because of the big heart-shaped leaves. Reminiscent of Jacaranda with its purple blooming, it's saudade for me about South America. At Tim Hortons café, I enjoyed Scrambled Eggs with Sausage and Potatoes and an Earl Grey Tea with oat milk in the morning, and an Iced Classic Lemonade in the afternoon. The day was full of walking. At home, I study bits of Lojban and Esperanto. I have many books in Esperanto. I tend towards Animism-Buddhism in my Syncretism.

Source: Tatoeba

现在是 2025 年 8 月 3 日，露露岛。晚餐后，阳光下嫩绿的无花果，昨天醃製的甜醋，还有重新加热的阿尔弗雷多义麵，我坐在阳台上，望着那棵针叶树。楼下静谧无声，街道空无一车，一片悠閒。我的冰镇青柠水在阳光下闪闪发光。最近，我常和那位法丹溷血的 UFO 研究专家麦可聊天。我们谈论内心深处的事情：智慧型装置的迷醉，以及思维的衰退。他说，咖啡馆已经不再是咖啡馆了。人们忘记如何观察、如何驻足停留。我跟他讲起在日本的亚瑟，他会像僧侣凝视虚空一样，对着空白的牆壁发呆。最近，我让机器像诗人一样说话，它们真的做到了。它们模彷伊莉莎白时代的诗歌，以及塔加洛语民谣中那古老而忧伤的韵律。我沿着通往蒂姆霍顿咖啡店的小路採摘黑莓。我像个孩子似的喊道：「莫拉！」我的朋友莫拉，她血液裡流着安地斯山脉的薄雾，她会笑的。今天，我买了黄柠檬。我本来想买青柠，但黄柠檬也可以。/ 黑莓的清晨 / 指尖残留无花果的痕迹 / 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

姆

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