Question

nesecito un cuento de 100 lineas en ingles y español

Answer 1

In a place of La Mancha, whose name I do not want to remember, there has been a long time that lived to lord of the lance in the shipyard, old pork, skinny rocín and greyhound runner. The pot of something more than ram, spit most nights, duels and breaks on Saturdays, giblets on Fridays, some palomino in addition on Sundays, consumed three quarters of his estate. The rest of the party concluded the evening dress, the hairy shorts for the parties, their slippers of the same, and the days of midweek were honored with their finest vellorí. He had a housekeeper in his house who was in his forties, and a niece who was not in his twenties, and a boy in the field and square, who saddled the rocin as he took the pruning. I have emphasized the age of our hidalgo at the age of fifty; He was of a hard complexion, dry of flesh, thin of face, great early bird and friend of the hunt. They mean that they have the nickname of Quijada, or Quesada, that in this there is some difference in the authors who in this case write; Although, by plausible conjectures, it is understood that it was called Quejana. But this matters little to our story; It is enough that in the narration of him a point of truth does not come out.
It is, therefore, to know that this particular hidalgo, the idle moments, which were the most of the year, was given to read books of chivalry, with so much fondness and taste, that almost forgot the exercise of hunting, And even the Administration of his estate. And he came to his curiosity and folly in this, that he sold many hanegas of seeding land to buy books of chivalry to read, and so he brought to his house that could have been of them; And none of them looked as good as those of the famous Feliciano de Silva, because the clarity of his prose and his impassioned motives seemed to him to be pearls, and more so when he came to read those requiebros and letters of challenge, where in Many parts of it were written: The reason for the unreasonableness which my reason is made, so my reason weakens, that I am rightly complaining of your beauty. And also when I read: ... the high heavens that of your divinity divinely with the stars fortify you, and make you deserving of the deservation that your greatness deserves.
With these reasons the poor knight lost his judgment, and he revealed himself by understanding them and unraveling their meaning, that Aristotle would not take it out or understand it, if he would rise to it. He was not very well with the wounds that Don Belianis gave and received, because he imagined that great masters who would have cured him would not have his face and his whole body full of scars and signs. But, in spite of everything, he has praised his author for finishing his book with the promise of that endless adventure, and many times he felt the desire to take the pen and give it an end as literally as promised; And doubtless did it, and even come out with it, if other great and continuous thoughts would not hinder it. He has often had competition with the priest of his place, who was a learned man, graduated in Sigüenza, on which had been better knight: Palmerín de Ingalaterra or Amadís de Gaula; But Master Nicholas, the barber of the same village, said that no one came to the Knight of Phoebus, and that if any of them could be compared, it was Don Galaor, brother of Amadis of Gaul, because he had a very good condition For everything; That he was not a gentleman of sorts, nor as weeping as his brother, and that in the matter of bravery he did not follow him.
In resolution, he became so involved in his reading that he spent his nights reading from clear to clear, and the days of cloudy to murky; And so, of the little sleep and of much reading, it wiped the brain, so that it came to lose the judgment. The fantasy of all that he read in the books was filled with enchantments, as well as of pendences, battles, challenges, wounds, rituals, loves, storms, and impossible absurdities; And he was so impressed by the imagination that it was true that machine of those dreamlike inventions he read, that for him there was no more certain history in the world. He said that Cid Ruy Diaz had been a good knight, but he had nothing to do with the Knight of the Blazing Sword, which had only broken through two fierce and gigantic giants. He was better off with Bernardo del Carpio, for Roncesvalles Roldan had been delighted, using the industry of Hercules, when he drowned Antheus, the son of the Earth, in his arms. He said, "I'm very good." He said, "I'm sorry." But above all, he was well with Reinaldos de Montalban, and even more so when he saw him leave his castle and steal all that I have encountered, and when he stole that idol of Mohammed, which was all gold, according to his story. Give him, give him a hand to the traitor.