Name: موسیقی متن سریال پروانه by Planet Earth
Duration: 3 min 26 s
Description: آهنگساز : فرید سعادتمند

زندگی ارزش زندگی کردن نداره

از غمه تو ماننده دیواره سقوط کرده هستم

شدم مثه شمعی که نور داره اما گرما نه....🖤

این همه بی کسی و غربت این موسیقی و کجا دلم بزارم ای خدا

آهنگساز : فرید سعادتمند

موسیقی متن سریال پروانه

Ehaam_Gharibe ashena

SHAROMiN MAN

هم‌راه من و استکانی چای، در
https://t.me/gham_noomeh

| Shabangahan | - Taher Ghoreyshi

نمی‌دونم
آواز : بانو هایده
آهنگساز : آندرانیک آساطوریان
شاعر : هدیه

بازتنظیم و میکس : شایان گرجی
طراحی کاورآرت : فُؤاد معماریان
@Memariaan

شعر :
نمیدونم که چرا دوباره دیوونه میشی؟
خراب و ویرونه میشی؟
بُتی که داغونه میشم
ابری که گریونه میشم ، وای

دلِ غمگین منُ باز تو آروم میکنی
میشکنه طلسم غم
آخه جادوم میکنی ، آخه جادوم میکنی

وقتی که تو بد میشی باز می بینم
دنیا رو سرم خرابه
می بینم که باز دارم دِق میکنم 
همه چیم نقش بر آبه
اما تا میخوام برم گریه کنون
سر به دیوارا بکوبم
باز به دادم میرسی به من میگی
عشقمی ، تو خوب خوبم

باز میگم عزیز من پا رو قلبم نمیذاره
مهربونه با من و اشکمُ در نمیاره

وقتی که مثل شراب مست مستم میکنی
عاشقِ عشق میشم، مِی پرستم میکنی

وقتی که به من میگی جونِ من بسته به جونت
منُ آروم میکنه اون صدای مهربونت

نمیدونم که چرا دوباره دیوونه میشی؟
دوباره دیوونه میشم
دوباره دیوونه میشی
دوباره دیوونه میشم

دلِ غمگین منُ باز تو آروم میکنی
میشکنه طلسم غم
آخه جادوم میکنی، آخه جادوم میکنی

Nemidoonam (Feat. Hayedeh)

Build your own Hayedeh cover for Free 🫵🏻
https://github.com/arash-hacker/Hayedeh_Vocal_AI_Model

Hayedeh To Shodi Mesle Khoon To Ragam Nam Name Eshgh - (نم نم عشق AI)  هایده -تو شدی مثل خون تو رگام

خنجر بر تار حنجر، دشنه بر لب تشنه (حسین فخری) میکس استودیویی

Asheghaneha - Arash Fouladvand feat Vahid Taj

Alireza Ghorbani - Sheyda عليرضا قربانی، شیدا

A Low Susurrus of Desolation: Echoes in the Void of Being
In the vast, reverberating chambers of existence, there lies a sound—faint, elusive, almost imperceptible—a low susurrus of desolation. It drifts between thoughts, coils through the hidden crevices of the self, a gossamer thread of melancholy: fragile in tone, yet unyielding in presence. This is not the piercing cry of despair, but something quieter, more insidious—a constant undertone to the human experience. It is a sonic haze, wrapping itself around the soul, enveloping it in the muted twilight of being, an ever-present murmur beneath the rhythms of modern life.

The Anatomy of the Whisper
A susurrus is a murmur, a whisper so soft it barely brushes the threshold of sound. Desolation, in contrast, evokes a vast emptiness—bleak, lifeless, and stripped of warmth. When these converge, they form a paradox: the whisper of absence, the voice of a void that is not silent, but softly humming. It doesn’t shout or plead. It persists—a lingering undertone, subtle yet unshakable, a slow vibration that hums beneath awareness, infusing everything with an aura of weightless sorrow.
This low susurrus is the background music of modernity. It pulses beneath the surface of urban life, beneath neon lights and algorithmic noise. It resonates in the quiet of empty office buildings, in derelict suburbs, and in the flicker of screens that promise connection yet deepen dislocation. It is the faint drone of progress turned hollow, of meaning stripped down by acceleration and abstraction.

Whispers in the Mind
To hear the susurrus is to become attuned to a quiet kind of despair—not the agony of sudden loss, but the erosion that comes with time. It is the dull ache that grows from small, daily failures: missed connections, drifting dreams, the steady accumulation of the almost. This murmur is not loud, not sharp—it is gentle, almost soothing, a background hum of resignation that settles over the psyche like dust on forgotten things.
In its whisper lies the voice of surrender—not of defeat, but of acceptance. The susurrus speaks the language of postmodern fatigue. It echoes the unraveling of collective meaning, the decline of shared truths, the slow fading of belief systems once seen as immutable. It is the sound of drifting in a world where all anchors have lifted, where every certainty is questioned and every answer provisional.

Echoes of the In-Between
This sound cannot be escaped. It is woven into the very fabric of experience. It echoes what has been lost and what will never come to be. It lingers in the liminal—between joy and sadness, movement and stillness, longing and numbness. In this in-between, emotions flatten and motivation dulls. The world becomes a place not of clear highs and lows but of muted grays.
And yet, strangely, this whisper brings comfort. It is familiar, a presence we recognize even if we never named it. It rocks us gently, not toward hope, but toward stillness. It asks not for striving but for still surrender. It is the lullaby of the weary, the ambient hum that invites us not to resist, but to rest.

A Silent Requiem
In the end, the low susurrus of desolation is not a threat but a teacher. It reminds us that emptiness is not a flaw in being, but a fundamental rhythm. It is the voice of impermanence, the song of all that was, all that might have been, and all that will pass. It is not nihilism, but clarity—the soft illumination of finality.
There is peace here—not fulfillment, but quiet. Not triumph, but cessation. The susurrus whispers the universe’s oldest truth: all things return to silence. And in that silence, we find something beyond despair. 
We find release. 
We find rest.

موسیقی متن سریال پروانه

Planet Earth

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