Weak Point Music موسيقى مسلسل نقطة ضعف ( Mobile4arab.com )

اللقاء التاني

أغنيه يا أجمل الناس- سيمون - من مسلسل فارس بلا جواد

يا أجمل الناس- سيمون - من مسلسل فارس بلا جواد

الكلمات:
مين فينا جاي مرساها مين رايح 
لحظة ميلاد الفرح كان في حبيب رايح 
يا ابو الروايح يا نرجس ماتجس وتر القدر 
تلقي حكايات البشر فيها عبير العبر صادح
زي النهار الطفل لما ينفلت 
من بين ايادي الضلمة ويشقشق 
انا شوفت روح الحق لما اتسللت 
صرخت و في وش الخرس انطق 
ادي البشر اوراق فيها عبير العبر صـادح

بان في عيون العصر لما زغللت 
الليل يجيها يحني ضهر السيل 
انا شوفت روح الخطوة لما اتبرجلت 
عكازها ماشي بالخطي علي فين 

ادي البشر اوراق فيها عبير العبر صادح

تتر بداية مسلسل حديث الصباح و المساء_أنغام

Story
The Whisper of the Trees in Forgotten Tongues. Ballad of the Lost Winds. Deep in the forest of Ilunabar, where the mist coils like a sleeping serpent and the sunlight barely touches the moss, the trees speak. Not with human words, nor with the rustling of the wind through their branches, but with ancient voices, languages ​​that time has buried beneath centuries of silence.
The villagers of Eztia said that whoever ventured into Ilunabar during the new moon could hear the whispers. They were not threats, nor songs, but fragments of stories never written down. Languages ​​that belonged to peoples who crossed the stars, who wove melodies from roots and named the gods with syllables that no longer exist.
One night, Ainhara, a young woman who dreamed of composing songs that would heal the soul, followed the whispers of the trees. She carried a beechwood lute, carved by her grandfather, who said that instruments made from old trees could remember.
Upon reaching the central clearing, where an ancient oak stood as guardian of the forest, Ainhara listened. Not with her ears, but with her heart. The leaves vibrated in harmonies unlike anything on earth. It was as if the forest were singing to her in ancient Basque, mixed with echoes of tongues of fire, water, and stone.
Ainhara began to play. Each note that emerged from her lute was an intuitive translation of what the trees were saying. Thus was born the Ballad of the Lost Winds, a song that, they say, made the mountains weep and the dry fields bloom.
Since then, with each new moon, the trees whisper louder. And those who listen with respect and without fear can learn forgotten languages. Not to speak them, but to feel them. Because there are words that are not spoken: they are lived.

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على الحجار من مسلسل مسألة مبدأ

Shimaa Ahmed Salama