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Lyrics | كلمات الاغنية

ياه عالسنين المسروقين
مني ف هواه
عالفاضي ياه
خانّني الجمال
والقلب شال
أوجاع تُقال
و ياريت ينساه
ده أذاه

خان ليه
شاف إيه مني
ما يقول اللي شافه
بدّيه خير طول عمري 
وكمان ده اعترافه
بسهوله
إديته عمري وباعه
إديته سري وذاعه
وكشفلي إيه جواه
ف نواياه

ياه
علي وقت فات
بين حلفانات
باطله وكلام
قاله ولغاه
ومن الآلام
ييجي العلام
درس الختام
ف حكايتي معاه مأساه

Tamer Ashour - Yaah | ‎تامر عاشور - ياه

بوسي "عيونه هتدمع" تتر مسلسل اش اش – 2025

اقبل اسراء الاصيل

Bassma Boussel - Ya Khosara | بسمة بوسيل - يا خسارة

My name is Isidor Emil.
I stood in goal with grit and steel.
A keeper born in Vienna’s core,
Behind the posts I knew the score.
They called me Johann in the news —
A name I never got to choose.
But I was there when boots were torn,
In Leopoldstadt, where I was born.
A keeper with the oldest team —
First Vienna — my boyhood dream.

In 1910, I wore the crest,
Austrian cap upon my chest.
Budapest, we lost that day —
Three goals slipped in and blew away.
And when the league began its race,
They found a younger keeper’s face.
Steinbrecher took the number one.
And I, again, was someone done.

 I was replaced — and still I stayed,
Through rain and cold, through night and day.
I wore the gloves with hands gone raw,
I knew the rules, I loved the law.
I was replaced — but I remained,
In every match, my heart unchained.
No crowd remembers, no one swore.
But I was there.
I was Isidor. 

WAF came calling, needing grace —
Their first choice fell out of the race.
They wanted Otto Noll from Prague,
But he refused — and so I jogged
into the goal. I played my part.
They let me in. I gave my heart.
But Leopold Bode came next year.
They said, “He’s young.” I disappeared.

Still with the club, I stayed on ground.
In reserve teams, I hung around.
I worked by day, a banking clerk,
By night I blew my whistle — work.
And when WAF began to fall,
No one was left. I gave my all.
I built it back in Brigittenau,
It stands today — though few know how.

I was replaced — but I endured,
With boots unlaced and spirit pure.
Two times a keeper shown the door,
But always there to love it more.
I was replaced — but never gone,
From muddy fields to breaking dawn.
I left no trophies to adore.
But I was there.
I was Isidor. 

Then came the men — not boots, not ball.
No whistle, badge, no game at all.
Just lists and numbers, trains and fear.
They crossed my name.
They made me disappear.
No chants. No crowd. No final score.
Just Minsk. A forest. Nothing more.

I was replaced — again, again.)
But still I stood. And stood like men.
No medals left, no lights, no lore.
Just gloves. And mud.
I was Isidor.

I Was Isidor

Prayer Left on the Pillow by ObiAmeshi

A tender and introspective ballad that captures the sacred intimacy of unspoken devotion. "Prayer Left on the Pillow" explores those quiet moments when words fail but the heart still speaks—whispered hopes pressed into fabric, silent supplications shared with empty sheets, and the gentle act of leaving love as an offering in the space where dreams meet reality.
ObiAmeshi crafts a deeply personal narrative about vulnerability in its purest form, where prayers become physical gestures and pillows hold the weight of our most honest confessions. The song moves between hushed verses and soaring choruses, mirroring the delicate balance between solitude and connection, between what we say aloud and what we dare only whisper in the dark.
With haunting melodies that linger like morning light on rumpled bedding, this track invites listeners into those sacred spaces where faith, love, and longing converge. It's about the prayers we leave behind for others to find, the ones we hope will carry our deepest intentions even when we're not there to speak them ourselves.
A beautiful meditation on how sometimes our most powerful prayers are the ones we never say out loud—we simply leave them where they can be felt.

Prayer Left on The Pillow

Запретная любовь.
Две сломленные души.
Трагический финал, который пробирает до мурашек.

В своей новой балладе "Последняя весна" Анастасия Нева рассказывает историю невозможной любви — между светом и тьмой, жизнью и смертью, страхом и страстью.

💔 Музыка, которая остаётся в сердце.
🎶 Слушайте, чувствуйте, проживайте.

Последняя  весна

بهواك وما فيي انساك ياضو عينيي
 وبدونك وحياة عيونك
 حتى الضحكة صعبانة عليي
 
 وسكابا يا دموعي
 ع غيابو سكابا
 وغيابا طفا شموعي
 وتعبني غيابا
 ما حَحكي خطية، انساي
 جوا روحي عتم وفيك ضوّيت
 معك جرحي عديت
 كلمة حكيتا، ونهيتا
 انت الاصل وكل ناسي
 لو ماتو كل حواسي
 ما حَحكي خطية، انساي
 جوا روحي عتم وفيك ضوّيت
 معك جرحي عديت
 كلمة حكيتا، ونهيتا
 انت الاصل وكل ناسي
 لو ماتو كل حواسي
 كاسي كالعلقم مُر
 وسنين أيامي بدونك
 كنت بسماكي كالطير الحُر
 صادوني وحرموني عيونك
 وحسافة تكوني لغيري
 زفي الدمع يا عيون
 تحت جناحك يا طيري
 لغيرك ماكون
 ما حَحكي خطية، انساي
 جوا روحي عتم وفيك ضوّيت
 معك جرحي عديت
 كلمة حكيتا، ونهيتا
 انت الاصل وكل ناسي
 لو ماتو كل حواسي
 ما حَحكي خطية، انساي
 جوا روحي عتم وفيك ضوّيت
 معك جرحي عديت
 كلمة حكيتا، ونهيتا
 انت الاصل وكل ناسي
 لو ماتو كل حواسي
 

Bessan Ismail x Fouad Jned -  خطية (Official Music Video) _ بيسان اسماعيل و فؤاد جنيد

كلامي انتهى

؛‎ والله مايسوى~

Hi there — welcome to my corner of the web.

I’m here for one simple reason: to share my music with you.
Take a listen, explore, and I hope something here resonates with you. Enjoy the vibe!

I Was Isidor

Unbekannter Künstler

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