Шёщ„шёщ„ш§_шјшєщ†щљщ‡ Щѓш±шїщљщ‡_ _ez - Ш§ші Шёщ„шёщ„щљ Щ†ш§щѓ

Azad looked at his calloused hands. "A nightingale does not sing because it wants to be heard, Siyar. It sings because the forest is heavy with silence, and someone must tell the truth of the heart."

Siyar looked up, tears in his eyes. "You aren't just a singer, Grandfather. You are the memory of us." Azad looked at his calloused hands

Azad smiled and handed the tembûr to the boy. "The nightingale never dies, Siyar. It just finds a new throat to sing through." Azad looked at his calloused hands