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Som

Som, SOM or Søm may refer to:

Som (currency)

The som, sum, or soum is a unit of currency used in Turkic-speaking countries in Central Asia. Its name comes from words in the respective languages (including Kazakh, Kyrgyz, Uyghur and Uzbek) for "pure", referring to historical coins of pure gold. It may refer to:

  • Uzbekistani som
  • Kyrgyzstani som

Speakers of Kazakh, Kyrgyz and Uzbek in the then Soviet Union called the ruble by these names, and were accommodated by the word appearing on the backs of banknotes. The som of Kyrgyzstan and som of Uzbekistan are post-Soviet examples.

SOM (missile)

SOM Cruise Missile is a next-generation high precision cruise missile, which can be launched from land, sea and air platforms developed by TÜBİTAK SAGE, Defence Research and Development Institute of Turkey. It was first revealed during the 100th anniversary celebrations of the Turkish Air Force at the Çiğli Air Base in İzmir, on 4 June 2011. Developed since 2006, the SOM cruise missile is Turkey's first domestic solution for destroying both stationary and moving targets at a stand-off distance of over 180 kilometers. Although being developed by TÜBİTAK SAGE which still holds authority over the design of the missile, Roketsan has been given the role of producing and marketing the missile for export.

Wiktionary

som

n. 1 The currency of Uzbekistan. 2 The currency of Kyrgyzstan.

WordNet

som

n. the basic unit of money in Kyrgyzstan

Usage examples of "som".

But if, on the other hand, it is suggested that malignant disease may be due to germs derived from animals which were suffering from som form of cancer when they were killed for the food of human beings, then much that is otherwise obscure becomes plain.

Henk, die hem kende als zeer vergeetachtig in zulke kwijtingen, had echter niet willen weigeren en hem de gevraagde som ter hand gesteld, en Vincent leefde nu, terwijl het geld hem den eenen dag als water tusschen de vingers slipte, en hij den anderen, met een bijna bekrompen gierigheid, een dubbeltje poogde uit te winnen, in zijn doffe zwakte voort, terwijl de wissels uit Brussel zich wachten lieten.

So verstrich Sommer und Herbst, aber nun kam der Winter, der kalte, lange Winter.

She listened to the countdown in her earphones, imagined Clyde Sommer, the network anchor, seated at the prime desk in New York.

Som for plesance of folk, and flaterye, To been avaunced by ypocrisye, And Som for veyne glorie, and Som for hate.

For which, whan I hadde longe avysed me, I demed hym som Chanoun for to be.

But first, I yow biseeke in this mateere, Though I by ordre telle nat this thynges, Be it of popes, emperours, or kynges, After hir ages, as men writen fynde, But tellen hem, som bifore and som bihynde, As it now comth unto my remembraunce.

He seyde he lovede, and was biloved no thyng, Of swich matere made he manye layes, Songes, compleintes, roundels, virelayes, How that he dorste nat his sorwe telle, But langwissheth, as a furye dooth in helle, And dye he moste, he seyde, as dide Ekko For Narcisus, that dorste nat telle hir wo, In oother manere than ye heere me seye, Ne dorste he nat to hir his wo biwreye, Save that paraventure som tyme at daunces, Ther yonge folk kepen hir observaunces, It may wel be he looked on hir face, In swich a wise as man that asketh grace.

Ikke fegling som d’ älren, dolte aj i prysi jömme, kjämpe han, jääv liks å vasam, hövding han blann orkahodern.

Men den yngres näv var snabbre, slog i kaken som en hammar, brytte halsen, Iäggde kjämpen låg i dyen, död som fiske.

Groves whose rich Trees wept odorous Gumms and Balme, Others whose fruit burnisht with Golden Rinde Hung amiable, HESPERIAN Fables true, If true, here onely, and of delicious taste: Betwixt them Lawns, or level Downs, and Flocks Grasing the tender herb, were interpos'd, Or palmie hilloc, or the flourie lap Of som irriguous Valley spread her store, Flours of all hue, and without Thorn the Rose: Another side, umbrageous Grots and Caves Of coole recess, o're which the mantling Vine Layes forth her purple Grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant.

Upon my feith, thou art som officer, som worthy sexteyn, or som celerer, For by my fader soule, as to my doom, Thou art a maister whan thou art at hoom, No povre cloysterer, ne no novys, But a governour, wily and wys.

For their unprecedented commitment during the defensive fighting at Epinal, Lun6ville, and Chatel, Lieutenant Sommer was formally awarded the German Cross in Gold and Maurer the Knight's Cross.

And if so be my destynee be shapen By eterne word to dyen in prisoun, Of oure lynage have som compassioun, That is so lowe ybroght by tirannye.

Earth trembl'd from her entrails, as again In pangs, and Nature gave a second groan, Skie lowr'd, and muttering Thunder, som sad drops Wept at compleating of the mortal Sin Original.