Examples of using "Porto" in a sentence and their english translations:
Where is the harbour?
Where is the harbour?
He's from Porto Velho.
The port is free of ice.
The ships reached port.
The ship's in the port.
How many cranes are there in this port?
There are many ships in the harbor.
Their ship is still in port.
and celebrated by port staff
Kobe is famous for its port.
The ship is now in the harbor.
The boat is heading toward the harbor.
We saw many ships in the harbor.
Our ship was approaching the harbor.
Porto Alegre is a beautiful city.
Puerto Ricans are American citizens.
We can see the whole harbor from the building.
Could you show me the way to the port?
We began to sail in the direction of the port.
You didn't put the port of embarkation.
Show me where Puerto Rico is on the map.
If you're going to Porto, can you give me a ride?
The city of Santos has a large port.
The ship is navigating towards the harbor.
Could you tell me the way to the port?
Brazil played against France in Porto Alegre.
How long does it take to get to your office from the port?
Port Moresby is the capital of Papua New Guinea.
Porto Alegre is the southernmost capital city of a Brazilian state.
Since Puerto Rico is a US colony, Puerto Rico's head of state is the President of the USA, but inhabitants of Puerto Rico are not allowed to vote in US presidential elections.
Once in a while my uncle took me to the harbor.
She stood at the door, her hair blown by the wind.
The old port is no longer enough for modern ships.
- Owing to the storm, the ship could not leave port.
- Because of the storm, the ship couldn't leave port.
- Because of the storm, the ship couldn't leave the harbor.
- The ship couldn't leave the harbor because of the storm.
First he hit the Spanish port of Valparaíso, where he took Chilean gold and wine.
A ship in harbour is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.
Hither we sail and on this island fair, / worn out, find welcome in a sheltered bay, / and, landing, hail Apollo's town with prayer.
Straightway / I burn to greet them, and the tale explore, / and from the harbour haste, and leave the ships and shore.
In a far retreat / there lies a haven; towards the deep doth stand / an island, on whose jutting headlands beat / the broken billows, shivered into sleet.
Phaeacia's heights with the horizon blend; / we skim Epirus, and Chaonia's bay / enter, and to Buthrotum's town ascend.
Fresh blows the breeze, and broader grows the bay, / and on the cliffs is seen Minerva's fane.
A 67-year old woman died this Friday in Porto, hit by a garbage truck as she crossed the street running to catch the bus.
Nor stays his conquering raid / till seven huge bodies on the ground lie slain, / the number of his vessels; then again / he seeks the crews, and gives a deer to each.
Those clothe with awe / the Senate; there they choose the judges for the law. / These delve the port; the broad foundations there / they lay for theatres of ample space, / and columns, hewn from marble rocks, prepare, / tall ornaments, the future stage to grace.
Ortygia's port we leave, and skim the mere; / soon Naxos' Bacchanalian hills appear, / and past Olearos and Donysa, crowned / with trees, and Paros' snowy cliffs we steer. / Far-scattered shine the Cyclades renowned, / and clustering isles thick-sown in many a glittering sound.
"As they, returning, sport with joyous cry, / and flap their wings and circle in the sky, / e'en so thy vessels and each late-lost crew / safe now and scatheless in the harbour lie, / or, crowding canvas, hold the port in view."
Scarce now the summer had begun, when straight / my father, old Anchises, gave command / to spread our canvas and to trust to Fate. / Weeping, I leave my native port, the land, / the fields where once the Trojan towers did stand, / and, homeless, launch upon the boundless brine, / heart-broken outcast, with an exiled band, / comrades, and son, and household gods divine, / and the great Gods of Troy, the guardians of our line.
Beneath a precipice, that fronts the wave, / with limpid springs inside, and many a seat / of living marble, lies a sheltered cave, / home of the Sea-Nymphs. In this haven sweet / cable nor biting anchor moors the fleet.
It was a spacious harbour, sheltered deep / from access of the winds, but looming vast / with awful ravage, AEtna's neighbouring steep / thundered aloud, and, dark with clouds, upcast / smoke and red cinders in a whirlwind's blast. / Live balls of flame, with showers of sparks, upflew / and licked the stars, and in combustion massed, / torn rocks, her ragged entrails, molten new, / the rumbling mount belched forth from out the boiling stew.
"O Goddess-born, high auspices are thine, / and heaven's plain omens guide thee o'er the main. / Thus Jove, by lot unfolding his design, / assorts the chances, and the Fates ordain. / This much may I of many things explain, / how best o'er foreign seas to urge thy keel / in safety, and Ausonian ports attain, / the rest from Helenus the Fates conceal, / and Juno's envious power forbids me to reveal."
And tonight, I think about all that she's seen throughout her century in America — the heartache and the hope; the struggle and the progress; the times we were told that we can't, and the people who pressed on with that American creed: Yes we can. At a time when women's voices were silenced and their hopes dismissed, she lived to see them stand up and speak out and reach out for the ballot. Yes we can. When there was despair in the dust bowl and depression across the land, she saw a nation conquer fear itself with a New Deal, new jobs, a new sense of common purpose. Yes we can. When the bombs fell on our harbor and tyranny threatened the world, she was there to witness a generation rise to greatness and a democracy was saved. Yes we can. She was there for the buses in Montgomery, the hoses in Birmingham, a bridge in Selma, and a preacher from Atlanta who told a people that we shall overcome. Yes we can. A man touched down on the moon, a wall came down in Berlin, a world was connected by our own science and imagination.