پیامک عاشقانه به همسر

پیامک عاشقانه به همسر به انگلیسی و فارسی

My wife, you are my love and my strength. I can beat the whole world with just your love. I love you so much and need you every time.

همسر من، تو عشق من و قدرت من هستی من فقط می توانم تمام دنیا را با عشق تو ضرب کنم من عاشق تو هستم و هر زمان به تو نیاز دارم



No matter how much years we have spent together. Our love is still high and increasing with every passing moment.
مهم نیست چقدر سال ها با هم صرف کرده اید عشق ما هنوز هم بالا است و با هر لحظه ای که می گذرد افزایش می یابد.

پیامک عاشقانه به همسر انگلیسی

Although I said I love you many times, but I want it to say it to you again. I also think that you always enjoy my love wishes for you.
اگر چه من گفتم شما را چند بار دوست دارم، اما من می خواهم آن را دوباره به شما بگویم. من همچنین فکر می کنم که همیشه از آرزوهای عشق من برای شما لذت می برم.


My wife listens to me carefully because if you don’t listen to me and care me then I cannot breathe even for a single day. My wife, I love you!
همسر من با دقت به من گوش می دهد؛ زیرا اگر به من گوش نکنید و به من احتیاج داشته باشید، حتی نمی توانم برای یک روز نفس بکشم. همسر من، من تو را دوست دارم


Keep struggling and maintain good position in our married life. I am proud of you and admire your loving qualities of your character.
تلاش کنید و موقعیت خوب خود را در زندگی ازدواج خود حفظ کنید. من به شما افتخار می کنم و کیفیت های دوست داشتنی شخصیت شما را تحسین می کنم.

اس ام اس عاشقانه به همسر انگلیسی با ترجمه فارسی

My love, you are my gift from God and I never want to lose you. I also want to say thanks to my God to give me such a beautiful reward for my good deeds.
عشق من، شما هدیه من از خداست و من هرگز نمی خواهم تو را از دست بدهم من همچنین می خواهم از خداوند بپرسم که به من پاداش خوبی برای اعمال خوب من می دهد.


I love you my dear wife and will continue to loving you till the end of this universe. Thanks for sharing everything with me without any harassment.
من عاشق تو همسر عزیزم هستم و تا آخر عمر به عشق تو ادامه خواهم داد. با تشکر از اینکه همه چیز را با من در میان گذاشتید بدون هر گونه آزار و اذیت.


You and I are two loving birds who are depended upon one another. No worries where we live because our love is most important than physical resources.

شما و من دو پرنده دوستدار هستند که به یکدیگر وابسته اند. نگران نباشید که در آن زندگی میکنیم چرا که عشق ما مهمتر از منابع فیزیکی است.

پیامک عاشقانه به همسر انگلیسی با ترجمه فارسی

I wish you to spend a happy life with me. I always try to give you everything which you desire and want to get. I love you by my heart and soul!
آرزو می کنم که زندگی شاد با من داشته باشی من همیشه سعی میکنم همه چیز را که مایل و میخواهم به شما بدهم. من تو را با قلب و روحت دوست دارم


I want to make you the happiest women and happiest wife of this world. I know this is a little bit difficult but my love can make it possible.
من می خواهم به شما شادترین زنان و شادترین همسر این دنیا بپردازم. من می دانم این کمی دشوار است، اما عشق من می تواند آن را امکان پذیر سازد.


If we judge the love of you and the love of me then we can come to a result that my love is many times greater than your one. My dear wife you are a reason of my long life!
اگر عشق به تو و عشق من را قضاوت کنی، می توانیم نتیجه بگیریم که عشق من چندین برابر بیشتر از شماست. همسر عزیز من دلیل زندگی طولانی من هستم!

I Love You Messages for Wife

Sometimes I become jealous from you because you have uncountable qualities which attract others which are not required. But these qualities argue me to love you more and more.
گاهی اوقات من از شما حسادت می کنم، زیرا شما دارای ویژگی های نامنظم است که دیگران را جذب می کنند که مورد نیاز نیستند. اما این ویژگی ها من را آرام می کند تا شما را بیشتر و بیشتر دوست داشته باشید.


I know this is not enough to only like you because the modern era also demands a lot of pleasure resources. My wife I am satisfied to provide you with all of such facilities.
من می دانم که این به اندازه کافی برای دوست داشتن تو نیست، زیرا عصر مدرن نیز از منابع زیادی لذت برده است. همسر من راضی هستم که شما را با تمام امکانات موجود آماده کنم.

Love Messages for Wife

God made many beautiful scenes and other attractive and beautiful items for human to live a perfect life. But when I see you then I think you are more gorgeous than all other things.
خدا بسیاری از صحنه های زیبا و موارد دیگر جذاب و زیبا را برای انسان ساخته است تا بتواند یک زندگی کامل زندگی کند. اما وقتی دیدم تو فکر میکنی بیشتر از تمام چیزهای دیگر زرق و برق دار است.


I want to express you and ensure you that you are only women in my wife. Also, I want to be the only man in your life. My wife, you are pretty and I love you so much!من می خواهم شما را بیان کنم و اطمینان حاصل کنم که شما فقط زن در همسرم هستید همچنین، من می خواهم تنها مرد زندگی شما باشد. همسر من، شما زیبا هستی و خیلی دوستت دارم

پنل پیامک صوتی

پیامک صوتی

ارسال پیامک صوتی

سامانه پیامک صوتی

پیامک صوتی انبوه

ارسال پیامک صوتی انبوه

پیامک صوتی صدارس

پیام صوتی

پنل پیام صوتی

ارسال پیام صوتی

پنل ارسال پیامک صوتی

پنل ارسال پیام صوتی

نمایندگی پیام صوتی

نمایندگی پیامک صوتی

نمایندگی پنل پیامک صوتی

پنل صوتی

تبدیل متن به صوت

تبدیل متن به صدا

تبدیل متن فارسی به صوت

تبدیل متن فارسی به صدا

پنل پیامک صوتی رایگان

پیامک صوتی رایگان

اپراتور مجازی تلفن همراه

تلفن همراه مجازی

شماره موبایل مجازی

شماره تلفن همراه مجازی

تلفن مجازی

اپراتور مجازی

تبلیغات صوتی

پیام صوتی صدارس

صدارس

پیامک صوتی صدارس

ارسال پیامک صوتی انبوه

نمایندگی پنل صوتی

داستان کوتاه عاشقانه انگلیسی با ترجمه فارسی

داستان کوتاه فارسی
داستان عاشقانه فارسی
داستان کوتاه انگلیسی با ترجمه فارسی
داستان کوتاه عاشقانه انگلیسی با ترجمه فارسی
Romantic and Passionate Birthday Wishes for your Wife



EIGHT years before he had seen his friend off at the North Wall and wished him godspeed. Gallaher had got on. You could tell that at once by his travelled air, his well-cut tweed suit, and fearless accent. Few fellows had talents like his and fewer still could remain unspoiled by such success. Gallaher's heart was in the right place and he had deserved to win. It was something to have a friend like that. Little Chandler's thoughts ever since lunch-time had been of his meeting with Gallaher, of Gallaher's invitation and of the great city London where Gallaher lived. He was called Little Chandler because, though he was but slightly under the average stature, he gave one the idea of being a little man. His hands were white and small, his frame was fragile, his voice was quiet and his manners were refined. He took the greatest care of his fair silken hair and moustache and used perfume discreetly on his handkerchief. The half-moons of his nails were perfect and when he smiled you caught a glimpse of a row of childish white teeth. As he sat at his desk in the King's Inns he thought what changes those eight years had brought. The friend whom he had known under a shabby and necessitous guise had become a brilliant figure on the London Press. He turned often from his tiresome writing to gaze out of the office window. The glow of a late autumn sunset covered the grass plots and walks. It cast a shower of kindly golden dust on the untidy nurses and decrepit old men who drowsed on the benches; it flickered upon all the moving figures -- on the children who ran screaming along the gravel paths and on everyone who passed through the gardens. He watched the scene and thought of life; and (as always happened when he thought of life) he became sad. A gentle melancholy took possession of him. He felt how useless it was to struggle against fortune, this being the burden of wisdom which the ages had bequeathed to him. He remembered the books of poetry upon his shelves at home. He had bought them in his bachelor days and many an evening, as he sat in the little room off the hall, he had been tempted to take one down from the bookshelf and read out something to his wife. But shyness had always held him back; and so the books had remained on their shelves. At times he repeated lines to himself and this consoled him. When his hour had struck he stood up and took leave of his desk and of his fellow-clerks punctiliously. He emerged from under the feudal arch of the King's Inns, a neat modest figure, and walked swiftly down Henrietta Street. The golden sunset was waning and the air had grown sharp. A horde of grimy children populated the street. They stood or ran in the roadway or crawled up the steps before the gaping doors or squatted like mice upon the thresholds. Little Chandler gave them no thought. He picked his way deftly through all that minute vermin-like life and under the shadow of the gaunt spectral mansions in which the old nobility of Dublin had roystered. No memory of the past touched him, for his mind was full of a present joy. He had never been in Corless's but he knew the value of the name. He knew that people went there after the theatre to eat oysters and drink liqueurs; and he had heard that the waiters there spoke French and German. Walking swiftly by at night he had seen cabs drawn up before the door and richly dressed ladies, escorted by cavaliers, alight and enter quickly. They wore noisy dresses and many wraps. Their faces were powdered and they caught up their dresses, when they touched earth, like alarmed Atalantas. He had always passed without turning his head to look. It was his habit to walk swiftly in the street even by day and whenever he found himself in the city late at night he hurried on his way apprehensively and excitedly. Sometimes, however, he courted the causes of his fear. He chose the darkest and narrowest streets and, as he walked boldly forward, the silence that was spread about his footsteps troubled him, the wandering, silent figures troubled him; and at times a sound of low fugitive laughter made him tremble like a leaf. He turned to the right towards Capel Street. Ignatius Gallaher on the London Press! Who would have thought it possible eight years before? Still, now that he reviewed the past, Little Chandler could remember many signs of future greatness in his friend. People used to say that Ignatius Gallaher was wild Of course, he did mix with a rakish set of fellows at that time. drank freely and borrowed money on all sides. In the end he had got mixed up in some shady affair, some money transaction: at least, that was one version of his flight. But nobody denied him talent. There was always a certain... something in Ignatius Gallaher that impressed you in spite of yourself. Even when he was out at elbows and at his wits' end for money he kept up a bold face. Little Chandler remembered (and the remembrance brought a slight flush of pride to his cheek) one of Ignatius Gallaher's sayings when he was in a tight corner: "Half time now, boys," he used to say light-heartedly. "Where's my considering cap?" That was Ignatius Gallaher all out; and, damn it, you couldn't but admire him for it. Little Chandler quickened his pace. For the first time in his life he felt himself superior to the people he passed. For the first time his soul revolted against the dull inelegance of Capel Street. There was no doubt about it: if you wanted to succeed you had to go away. You could do nothing in Dublin. As he crossed Grattan Bridge he looked down the river towards the lower quays and pitied the poor stunted houses. They seemed to him a band of tramps, huddled together along the riverbanks, their old coats covered with dust and soot, stupefied by the panorama of sunset and waiting for the first chill of night bid them arise, shake themselves and begone. He wondered whether he could write a poem to express his idea. Perhaps Gallaher might be able to get it into some London paper for him. Could he write something original? He was not sure what idea he wished to express but the thought that a poetic moment had touched him took life within him like an infant hope. He stepped onward bravely. Every step brought him nearer to London, farther from his own sober inartistic life. A light began to tremble on the horizon of his mind. He was not so old -- thirty-two. His temperament might be said to be just at the point of maturity. There were so many different moods and impressions that he wished to express in verse. He felt them within him. He tried weigh his soul to see if it was a poet's soul. Melancholy was the dominant note of his temperament, he thought, but it was a melancholy tempered by recurrences of faith and resignation and simple joy. If he could give expression to it in a book of poems perhaps men would listen. He would never be popular: he saw that. He could not sway the crowd but he might appeal to a little circle of kindred minds. The English critics, perhaps, would recognise him as one of the Celtic school by reason of the melancholy tone of his poems; besides that, he would put in allusions. He began to invent sentences and phrases from the notice which his book would get. "Mr. Chandler has the gift of easy and graceful verse." ... "wistful sadness pervades these poems." ... "The Celtic note." It was a pity his name was not more Irish-looking. Perhaps it would be better to insert his mother's name before the surname: Thomas Malone Chandler, or better still: T. Malone Chandler. He would speak to Gallaher about it. He pursued his revery so ardently that he passed his street and had to turn back. As he came near Corless's his former agitation began to overmaster him and he halted before the door in indecision. Finally he opened the door and entered. The light and noise of the bar held him at the doorways for a few moments. He looked about him, but his sight was confused by the shining of many red and green wine-glasses The bar seemed to him to be full of people and he felt that the people were observing him curiously. He glanced quickly to right and left (frowning slightly to make his errand appear serious), but when his sight cleared a little he saw that nobody had turned to look at him: and there, sure enough, was Ignatius Gallaher leaning with his back against the counter and his feet planted far apart. "Hallo, Tommy, old hero, here you are! What is it to be? What will you have? I'm taking whisky: better stuff than we get across the water. Soda? Lithia? No mineral? I'm the same Spoils the flavour.... Here, garcon, bring us two halves of malt whisky, like a good fellow.... Well, and how have you been pulling along since I saw you last? Dear God, how old we're getting! Do you see any signs of aging in me -- eh, what? A little grey and thin on the top -- what?" Ignatius Gallaher took off his hat and displayed a large closely cropped head. His face was heavy, pale and cleanshaven. His eyes, which were of bluish slate-colour, relieved his unhealthy pallor and shone out plainly above the vivid orange tie he wore. Between these rival features the lips appeared very long and shapeless and colourless. He bent his head and felt with two sympathetic fingers the thin hair at the crown. Little Chandler shook his head as a denial. Ignatius Galaher put on his hat again. "It pulls you down," be said, "Press life. Always hurry and scurry, looking for copy and sometimes not finding it: and then, always to have something new in your stuff. Damn proofs and printers, I say, for a few days. I'm deuced glad, I can tell you, to get back to the old country. Does a fellow good, a bit of a holiday. I feel a ton better since I landed again in dear dirty Dublin.... Here you are, Tommy. Water? Say when." Little Chandler allowed his whisky to be very much diluted. "You don't know what's good for you, my boy," said Ignatius Gallaher. "I drink mine neat." "I drink very little as a rule," said Little Chandler modestly. "An odd half-one or so when I meet any of the old crowd: that's all." "Ah well," said Ignatius Gallaher, cheerfully, "here's to us and to old times and old acquaintance." They clinked glasses and drank the toast. "I met some of the old gang today," said Ignatius Gallaher. "O'Hara seems to be in a bad way. What's he doing?" "Nothing, said Little Chandler. "He's gone to the dogs." "But Hogan has a good sit, hasn't he?" "Yes; he's in the Land Commission." "I met him one night in London and he seemed to be very flush.... Poor O'Hara! Boose, I suppose?" "Other things, too," said Little Chandler shortly. Ignatius Gallaher laughed. "Tommy," he said, "I see you haven't changed an atom. You're the very same serious person that used to lecture me on Sunday mornings when I had a sore head and a fur on my tongue. You'd want to knock about a bit in the world. Have you never been anywhere even for a trip?" "I've been to the Isle of Man," said Little Chandler. Ignatius Gallaher laughed. "The Isle of Man!" he said. "Go to London or Paris: Paris, for choice. That'd do you good." "Have you seen Paris?" "I should think I have! I've knocked about there a little." "And is it really so beautiful as they say?" asked Little Chandler. He sipped a little of his drink while Ignatius Gallaher finished his boldly. "Beautiful?" said Ignatius Gallaher, pausing on the word and on the flavour of his drink. "It's not so beautiful, you know. Of course, it is beautiful.... But it's the life of Paris; that's the thing. Ah, there's no city like Paris for gaiety, movement, excitement...." Little Chandler finished his whisky and, after some trouble, succeeded in catching the barman's eye. He ordered the same again. "I've been to the Moulin Rouge," Ignatius Gallaher continued when the barman had removed their glasses, "and I've been to all the Bohemian cafes. Hot stuff! Not for a pious chap like you, Tommy." Little Chandler said nothing until the barman returned with two glasses: then he touched his friend's glass lightly and reciprocated the former toast. He was beginning to feel somewhat disillusioned. Gallaher's accent and way of expressing himself did not please him. There was something vulgar in his friend which he had not observed before. But perhaps it was only the result of living in London amid the bustle and competition of the Press. The old personal charm was still there under this new gaudy manner. And, after all, Gallaher had lived, he had seen the world. Little Chandler looked at his friend enviously. "Everything in Paris is gay," said Ignatius Gallaher. "They believe in enjoying life -- and don't you think they're right? If you want to enjoy yourself properly you must go to Paris. And, mind you, they've a great feeling for the Irish there. When they heard I was from Ireland they were ready to eat me, man." Little Chandler took four or five sips from his glass. "Tell me," he said, "is it true that Paris is so... immoral as they say?" Ignatius Gallaher made a catholic gesture with his right arm. "Every place is immoral," he said. "Of course you do find spicy bits in Paris. Go to one of the students' balls, for instance. That's lively, if you like, when the cocottes begin to let themselves loose. You know what they are, I suppose?" "I've heard of them," said Little Chandler. Ignatius Gallaher drank off his whisky and shook his had. "Ah," he said, "you may say what you like. There's no woman like the Parisienne -- for style, for go." "Then it is an immoral city," said Little Chandler, with timid insistence -- "I mean, compared with London or Dublin?" "London!" said Ignatius Gallaher. "It's six of one and half-a-dozen of the other. You ask Hogan, my boy. I showed him a bit about London when he was over there. He'd open your eye.... I say, Tommy, don't make punch of that whisky: liquor up." "No, really...." "O, come on, another one won't do you any harm. What is it? The same again, I suppose?" "Well... all right." "Francois, the same again.... Will you smoke, Tommy?" Ignatius Gallaher produced his cigar-case. The two friends lit their cigars and puffed at them in silence until their drinks were served. "I'll tell you my opinion," said Ignatius Gallaher, emerging after some time from the clouds of smoke in which he had taken refuge, "it's a rum world. Talk of immorality! I've heard of cases -- what am I saying? -- I've known them: cases of... immorality...." Ignatius Gallaher puffed thoughtfully at his cigar and then, in a calm historian's tone, he proceeded to sketch for his friend some pictures of the corruption which was rife abroad. He summarised the vices of many capitals and seemed inclined to award the palm to Berlin. Some things he could not vouch for (his friends had told him), but of others he had had personal experience. He spared neither rank nor caste. He revealed many of the secrets of religious houses on the Continent and described some of the practices which were fashionable in high society and ended by telling, with details, a story about an English duchess -- a story which he knew to be true. Little Chandler as astonished. "Ah, well," said Ignatius Gallaher, "here we are in old jog- along Dublin where nothing is known of such things." "How dull you must find it," said Little Chandler, "after all the other places you've seen!" Well," said Ignatius Gallaher, "it's a relaxation to come over here, you know. And, after all, it's the old country, as they say, isn't it? You can't help having a certain feeling for it. That's human nature.... But tell me something about yourself. Hogan told me you had... tasted the joys of connubial bliss. Two years ago, wasn't it?" Little Chandler blushed and smiled. "Yes," he said. "I was married last May twelve months." "I hope it's not too late in the day to offer my best wishes," said Ignatius Gallaher. "I didn't know your address or I'd have done so at the time." He extended his hand, which Little Chandler took. "Well, Tommy," he said, "I wish you and yours every joy in life, old chap, and tons of money, and may you never die till I shoot you. And that's the wish of a sincere friend, an old friend. You know that?" "I know that," said Little Chandler. "Any youngsters?" said Ignatius Gallaher. Little Chandler blushed again. "We have one child," he said. "Son or daughter?" "A little boy." Ignatius Gallaher slapped his friend sonorously on the back. "Bravo," he said, "I wouldn't doubt you, Tommy." Little Chandler smiled, looked confusedly at his glass and bit his lower lip with three childishly white front teeth. "I hope you'll spend an evening with us," he said, "before you go back. My wife will be delighted to meet you. We can have a little music and----" "Thanks awfully, old chap," said Ignatius Gallaher, "I'm sorry we didn't meet earlier. But I must leave tomorrow night." "Tonight, perhaps...?" "I'm awfully sorry, old man. You see I'm over here with another fellow, clever young chap he is too, and we arranged to go to a little card-party. Only for that..." "O, in that case..." "But who knows?" said Ignatius Gallaher considerately. "Next year I may take a little skip over here now that I've broken the ice. It's only a pleasure deferred." "Very well," said Little Chandler, "the next time you come we must have an evening together. That's agreed now, isn't it?" "Yes, that's agreed," said Ignatius Gallaher. "Next year if I come, parole d'honneur." "And to clinch the bargain," said Little Chandler, "we'll just have one more now." Ignatius Gallaher took out a large gold watch and looked a it. "Is it to be the last?" he said. "Because you know, I have an a.p." "O, yes, positively," said Little Chandler. "Very well, then," said Ignatius Gallaher, "let us have another one as a deoc an doruis -- that's good vernacular for a small whisky, I believe." Little Chandler ordered the drinks. The blush which had risen to his face a few moments before was establishing itself. A trifle made him blush at any time: and now he felt warm and excited. Three small whiskies had gone to his head and Gallaher's strong cigar had confused his mind, for he was a delicate and abstinent person. The adventure of meeting Gallaher after eight years, of finding himself with Gallaher in Corless's surrounded by lights and noise, of listening to Gallaher's stories and of sharing for a brief space Gallaher's vagrant and triumphant life, upset the equipoise of his sensitive nature. He felt acutely the contrast between his own life and his friend's and it seemed to him unjust. Gallaher was his inferior in birth and education. He was sure that he could do something better than his friend had ever done, or could ever do, something higher than mere tawdry journalism if he only got the chance. What was it that stood in his way? His unfortunate timidity He wished to vindicate himself in some way, to assert his manhood. He saw behind Gallaher's refusal of his invitation. Gallaher was only patronising him by his friendliness just as he was patronising Ireland by his visit. The barman brought their drinks. Little Chandler pushed one glass towards his friend and took up the other boldly. "Who knows?" he said, as they lifted their glasses. "When you come next year I may have the pleasure of wishing long life and happiness to Mr. and Mrs. Ignatius Gallaher." Ignatius Gallaher in the act of drinking closed one eye expressively over the rim of his glass. When he had drunk he smacked his lips decisively, set down his glass and said: "No blooming fear of that, my boy. I'm going to have my fling first and see a bit of life and the world before I put my head in the sack -- if I ever do." "Some day you will," said Little Chandler calmly. Ignatius Gallaher turned his orange tie and slate-blue eyes full upon his friend. "You think so?" he said. "You'll put your head in the sack," repeated Little Chandler stoutly, "like everyone else if you can find the girl." He had slightly emphasised his tone and he was aware that he had betrayed himself; but, though the colour had heightened in his cheek, he did not flinch from his friend's gaze. Ignatius Gallaher watched him for a few moments and then said: "If ever it occurs, you may bet your bottom dollar there'll be no mooning and spooning about it. I mean to marry money. She'll have a good fat account at the bank or she won't do for me." Little Chandler shook his head. "Why, man alive," said Ignatius Gallaher, vehemently, "do you know what it is? I've only to say the word and tomorrow I can have the woman and the cash. You don't believe it? Well, I know it. There are hundreds -- what am I saying? -- thousands of rich Germans and Jews, rotten with money, that'd only be too glad.... You wait a while my boy. See if I don't play my cards properly. When I go about a thing I mean business, I tell you. You just wait." He tossed his glass to his mouth, finished his drink and laughed loudly. Then he looked thoughtfully before him and said in a calmer tone: "But I'm in no hurry. They can wait. I don't fancy tying myself up to one woman, you know." He imitated with his mouth the act of tasting and made a wry face. "Must get a bit stale, I should think," he said. Little Chandler sat in the room off the hall, holding a child in his arms. To save money they kept no servant but Annie's young sister Monica came for an hour or so in the morning and an hour or so in the evening to help. But Monica had gone home long ago. It was a quarter to nine. Little Chandler had come home late for tea and, moreover, he had forgotten to bring Annie home the parcel of coffee from Bewley's. Of course she was in a bad humour and gave him short answers. She said she would do without any tea but when it came near the time at which the shop at the corner closed she decided to go out herself for a quarter of a pound of tea and two pounds of sugar. She put the sleeping child deftly in his arms and said: "Here. Don't waken him." A little lamp with a white china shade stood upon the table and its light fell over a photograph which was enclosed in a frame of crumpled horn. It was Annie's photograph. Little Chandler looked at it, pausing at the thin tight lips. She wore the pale blue summer blouse which he had brought her home as a present one Saturday. It had cost him ten and elevenpence; but what an agony of nervousness it had cost him! How he had suffered that day, waiting at the shop door until the shop was empty, standing at the counter and trying to appear at his ease while the girl piled ladies' blouses before him, paying at the desk and forgetting to take up the odd penny of his change, being called back by the cashier, and finally, striving to hide his blushes as he left the shop by examining the parcel to see if it was securely tied. When he brought the blouse home Annie kissed him and said it was very pretty and stylish; but when she heard the price she threw the blouse on the table and said it was a regular swindle to charge ten and elevenpence for it. At first she wanted to take it back but when she tried it on she was delighted with it, especially with the make of the sleeves, and kissed him and said he was very good to think of her. Hm!... He looked coldly into the eyes of the photograph and they answered coldly. Certainly they were pretty and the face itself was pretty. But he found something mean in it. Why was it so unconscious and ladylike? The composure of the eyes irritated him. They repelled him and defied him: there was no passion in them, no rapture. He thought of what Gallaher had said about rich Jewesses. Those dark Oriental eyes, he thought, how full they are of passion, of voluptuous longing!... Why had he married the eyes in the photograph? He caught himself up at the question and glanced nervously round the room. He found something mean in the pretty furniture which he had bought for his house on the hire system. Annie had chosen it herself and it reminded hi of her. It too was prim and pretty. A dull resentment against his life awoke within him. Could he not escape from his little house? Was it too late for him to try to live bravely like Gallaher? Could he go to London? There was the furniture still to be paid for. If he could only write a book and get it published, that might open the way for him. A volume of Byron's poems lay before him on the table. He opened it cautiously with his left hand lest he should waken the child and began to read the first poem in the book: Hushed are the winds and still the evening gloom, Not e'en a Zephyr wanders through the grove, Whilst I return to view my Margaret's tomb And scatter flowers on tbe dust I love. He paused. He felt the rhythm of the verse about him in the room. How melancholy it was! Could he, too, write like that, express the melancholy of his soul in verse? There were so many things he wanted to describe: his sensation of a few hours before on Grattan Bridge, for example. If he could get back again into that mood.... The child awoke and began to cry. He turned from the page and tried to hush it: but it would not be hushed. He began to rock it to and fro in his arms but its wailing cry grew keener. He rocked it faster while his eyes began to read the second stanza: Within this narrow cell reclines her clay, That clay where once... It was useless. He couldn't read. He couldn't do anything. The wailing of the child pierced the drum of his ear. It was useless, useless! He was a prisoner for life. His arms trembled with anger and suddenly bending to the child's face he shouted: "Stop!" The child stopped for an instant, had a spasm of fright and began to scream. He jumped up from his chair and walked hastily up and down the room with the child in his arms. It began to sob piteously, losing its breath for four or five seconds, and then bursting out anew. The thin walls of the room echoed the sound. He tried to soothe it but it sobbed more convulsively. He looked at the contracted and quivering face of the child and began to be alarmed. He counted seven sobs without a break between them and caught the child to his breast in fright. If it died!... The door was burst open and a young woman ran in, panting. "What is it? What is it?" she cried. The child, hearing its mother's voice, broke out into a paroxysm of sobbing. "It's nothing, Annie ... it's nothing.... He began to cry..." She flung her parcels on the floor and snatched the child from him. "What have you done to him?" she cried, glaring into his face. Little Chandler sustained for one moment the gaze of her eyes and his heart closed together as he met the hatred in them. He began to stammer: "It's nothing.... He ... he began to cry.... I couldn't ... I didn't do anything.... What?" Giving no heed to him she began to walk up and down the room, clasping the child tightly in her arms and murmuring: "My little man! My little mannie! Was 'ou frightened, love?... There now, love! There now!... Lambabaun! Mamma's little lamb of the world!... There now!" Little Chandler felt his cheeks suffused with shame and he stood back out of the lamplight. He listened while the paroxysm of the child's sobbing grew less and less; and tears of remorse started to his eyes. هشت سال پیش، او دوست خود را در دیوار شمالی دید و آرزو کرد که او به سرعت خدشه وارد کند. گالاآر درگیر بود شما می توانید آن را با یک هواپیما سفر خود، کت و شلوار Tweed او، و لهجه بی رحمانه بگویید. چند تن از اعضای دارای استعداد مانند او و کمتر هنوز هم می تواند با موفقیت از دست ندهد باقی مانده است. قلب Gallaher در جای درست بود و او سزاوار پیروزی بود. چیزی بود که یک دوست دوست داشتنی داشته باشد. افکار کوچک چاندلر از زمان ناهار، از دیدار او با گالااهر، دعوت گالااهر و شهر بزرگ لندن که گالائه زندگی می کرد، بوده است. او Little Chandler نامیده می شد، زیرا، گرچه او فقط کمی در حد متوسط ​​بود، او به این فکر می کرد که یک مرد کوچک باشد. دست های او سفید و کوچک بود، قابش شکننده بود، صدای او آرام بود و رفتار او اصلاح شد. او بزرگترین مراقبت از مومیایی های ابریشمی و سبیل خود را به دست آورد و عطر را به آرامی روی دستمال خود استفاده کرد. نیمی از قمر ناخن او کامل بود و زمانی که او لبخند زد، شما یک نگاه اجمالی از یک ردیف از دندان های سفید کودکانه گرفتید. همانطور که در صندلی خود نشسته بود در مسافرخانه پادشاه فکر کرد که چه چیزی این هشت سال تغییر کرده است. دوستی که او تحت پوشش وحشتناک و ناخوشایند شناخته شده بود تبدیل به یک شخصیت درخشان در مطبوعات لندن شد. او اغلب از نوشته های خسته کننده اش تبدیل به نگاه کردن از پنجره دفتر. درخشش یک غروب خورشید پاییز پایه های علفی و پیاده روی را پوشش داد. این دوش گرد و غبار طلایی مهربان را در پرستاران بی نظیر و پیرزن های قدیمی که روی نیمکت نشسته اند، ریختند؛ آن را بر روی تمام شخصیت های متحرک - بر کودکان که در طول مسیر گران و هر کسی که از طریق باغ عبور کرد فریاد زد. او صحنه را تماشا کرد و به زندگی فکر کرد؛ و (همانطور که همیشه اتفاق می افتاد زمانی که او از زندگی فکر کرد) غمگین شد. ماندنی ملایم او را گرفتار کرد. او احساس کرد که چقدر بی فایده بود که مبارزه با ثروت را انجام دهد، این همان بار گرایی است که سنی برای او تعیین کرده بود. او کتاب های شعر را در قفسه های خود در خانه به یاد می آورد. او در روزهای کارشناسی و بسیاری از اوقات آنها را در حالی که در اتاق کوچک اتاق نشسته بود، خریداری کرده بود، او وسوسه شد تا از قفسه کتاب بیرون برود و چیزی را به همسرش بخواند. اما خجالت همیشه او را برگزار کرد؛ و بنابراین کتاب ها در قفسه هایشان باقی مانده بودند. او گاه خطوط خود را تکرار کرد و این او را محکم گرفت. هنگامی که ساعت او زده شد، او برخاست و از میز خود و همکارانش به راحتی از خانه بیرون رفت. او از زیر قوس فئودال قورباغه های پادشاه، یک شخصیت شسته و رفته، و به آرامی پایین خیابان هنریتا آمد. غروب آفتاب طلایی در حال کاهش بود و هوا شدید شد. انبوهی از کودکان خشن در خیابان زندگی می کردند. آنها ایستاده بودند و یا در مسیر راه فرار می کردند و یا گام ها را پیش از دراز کشیدن می کشیدند و یا مانند موش ها روی آستانه نشسته بودند. کمی چاندلر به آنها فکر نکرد. او به طرز محسوسی از طریق تمام آن لحظات زندگی مانند خرگوش و زیر سایه طاقچه های طوفانی طلایی که در آن نجیب قدیم دوبلین غرق شده بود را انتخاب کرد. هیچ خاطره ای از گذشته او را نادیده نگرفت، زیرا ذهن او پر از شادی است. او هرگز در Corless نبود اما ارزش نام آن را می دانست. او می دانست که مردم بعد از تئاتر به خوردن صدف ها و نوشیدن لیکورها رفتند؛ و او شنیده بود که پیشخدمت ها در آنجا فرانسه و آلمانی صحبت می کردند. در شب به سرعت راه می رفت، او قبل از در خانه کابین ها را می ساخت و خانم های غواصی که با کاوالیور همراهی می کردند، بیرون می زدند و به سرعت وارد می شدند. آنها لباس های پر سر و صدای زیادی داشتند. چهره آنها پودر شد و لباس های خود را گرفتند، وقتی که زمین را لمس کرد، مانند آتالانتا، مضطرب. او همیشه بدون چرخیدن سر خود را نگاه کرد. عادت او این بود که حتی در روز به سرعت در خیابان راه برود و هر زمان که او در شهر خود را در شهر به دام انداخته بود، با آرامش و هیجان زدگی از راه خود عجله کرد. گاهی اوقات، با این حال، او دلایل ترس او را تحمل کرد. او تاریک ترین و باریک ترین خیابان ها را انتخاب کرد و، همانطور که به آرامی راه می رفت، سکوت که در مورد راه های او گسترش یافت، او را نگران کرد، چهره های سرگردان و خاموش، او را ناراحت کرد؛ و بارها صدایی از خنده فتوحات کم ساخته شده او را مثل یک برگ لرزید. او به سمت راست به سمت خیابان کاپل تبدیل شده است. ایگناتیس گالائر در مطبوعات لندن! چه کسی هشت سال پیش ممکن بود فکر کند؟ با این حال، اکنون که او گذشته را بررسی کرد، کمی چاندلر می توانست بسیاری از نشانه های بزرگی آینده را در دوستش به یاد بیاورد. مردم میگفتند که ایگناتیس گالااهر وحشی بود البته او در آن زمان با یک مجموعه ی برفی از همتایان مخلوط شد. آزادانه نوشید و پول را از همه طرف قرض گرفت. در نهایت او در برخی از مسائل سایه دار مخلوط شد، برخی از معامله پول: حداقل، این یک نسخه از پرواز او بود. اما هیچ کس او را استعداد نپذیرفت. همیشه یک چیز خاص وجود داشت ... در ایگناتیس گالائر که به رغم خودت تحت تاثیر قرار گرفت. حتی زمانی که او در آرنج بود و در پایان عقل خود برای پول، چهره ای جسورانه داشت. کمی چاندلر به یاد می آورد (و یادآوری موجب افتادن غرور به چهره او شد) یکی از ایگناسیوس گ

اس ام اس تبریک تولد انگلیسی با ترجمه فارسی

پیامک تبریک تولد به انگلیسی و فارسی
پیامک تبریک تولد انگلیسی
اس ام اس تبریک تولد انگلیسی با ترجمه فارسی
پیامک تبریک تولد انگلیسی با ترجمه فارسی



THERE IS SO MUCH TO LIKE ABOUT YOU BABY, COMPLIMENTING YOU WOULD TAKE LONGER THAN INFINITY. YOU ARE THE WOMAN OF MY FANTASY, AND I CAN’T IMAGINE MY LIFE WITHOUT YOU BABY. HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

به نظر می رسد که شما بیش از حد عادت دارید. شما زن فانتزی من هستید، و من نمیتوانم زندگی خود را بدون شما بیاموزم. تولدت مبارک.



DEAR GRANDPA, I WISH YOU A LONG AND HEALTHY LIFE AHEAD. A LIFE THAT’S FILLED WITH GREAT JOY AND WONDER. BEST BDAY TO THE MOST AMAZING GRANDPA IN THE WORLD!



عزیز، من می خواهم شما زندگی طولانی و سالم داشته باشید. زندگی که پر از شور و شوق بزرگ است. بهترین روز دنیا به بزرگترین حیرت انگیز در جهان!


FLY IN THE P OF AMBITION,
AND ON THE AIRPORT OF
SUCCESS,
LUCK IS YOURS,
WISH IS MINE
MAY UR FUTURE
ALWAYS SHINE. . .
WITH LOTZ LOVE
'HAPPY BIRTHDAY 2 YOU



پرواز در مسابقه،
و در فرودگاه از
موفقیت
خوشبختی شماست
خواهش می کنم
آینده ممکن است
همیشه شاین . .
با عشق LOTZ
'تولدت مبارک 2 تو




اس ام اس تبریک تولد انگلیسی با ترجمه فارسی
پیامک تبریک تولد انگلیسی با ترجمه فارسی


OUR BELOVED SON, THE SITCOM OF OUR LIFE HAS BECOME A BLOCKBUSTER HIT RIGHT AFTER YOU CAME OUT OF THIS WORLD. YOU HAVE PLAYED THE SUPPORTING ROLE, YET LATER ON, YOU TOOK OVER AS THE LEAD

ضرب المثل انگلیسی با ترجمه فارسی

اس ام اس های دلتنگی عاشقانه
پیامک عاشقانه انگلیسی
اس ام اس عاشقانه انگلیسی با ترجمه فارسی
پیامک عاشقانه انگلیسی با ترجمه فارسی



First catch your hare , Then cook him
مرغی که در هواست نباید به سیخ کشید .
To run with the hare and hunt with the hounds
یکی به سیخ و یکی به نعل زدن
To carry coals to Newcastle
زیره به کرمان بردن
To go with the stream
همرنگ جماعت شدن
To move heaven and earth
آسمان را به زمین دوختن
Physician , heal theyself
کل اگر طبیب بودی ، سر خود وانمودی
To milk the ram
آب در هاون ساییدن
Spare the rod and spoil the child
کسی که بچه خود را نزند ، روزی به سینه خود خواهد زد .
Half a loaf is better then no bread
کاچی به از هیچ چیز است
When in Rome , do as the Romans do
خواهی نشوی رسوا ، همرنگ جماعت شو
One should not look a gift horse in the mouth
دندان اسب پیشکشی را نمی شمارند
Strike while the iron is hot
تا تنور گرم است باید نان را پخت
One swallow does not make summer
با یک گل بهار نمی شود
Light come , Light go
باد آورده را باد می برد
He is a button short
یک تخته اش کم است
His bread is buttered on both sides
نانش در روغن است
Bargain is bargain
حساب حساب است ، کاکا برادر
Nothing ventured , Nothing gained
نابرده رنج گنج میسر نمی شود
All is well that ends well
شاهنامه آخرش خوش است
To fall from the frying pan into the fire
از چاه درآمدن و در چاله افتادن
A burnt child dreads the fire
مار گزیده از ریسمان سیاه و سفید می ترسد

پنل پیامک صوتی

پیامک صوتی

ارسال پیامک صوتی

سامانه پیامک صوتی

پیامک صوتی انبوه

ارسال پیامک صوتی انبوه

پیامک صوتی صدارس

پیام صوتی

پنل پیام صوتی

ارسال پیام صوتی

پنل ارسال پیامک صوتی

پنل ارسال پیام صوتی

نمایندگی پیام صوتی

نمایندگی پیامک صوتی

نمایندگی پنل پیامک صوتی

پنل صوتی

تبدیل متن به صوت

تبدیل متن به صدا

تبدیل متن فارسی به صوت

تبدیل متن فارسی به صدا

پنل پیامک صوتی رایگان

پیامک صوتی رایگان

اپراتور مجازی تلفن همراه

تلفن همراه مجازی

شماره موبایل مجازی

شماره تلفن همراه مجازی

تلفن مجازی

اپراتور مجازی

تبلیغات صوتی

پیام صوتی صدارس

صدارس

پیامک صوتی صدارس

ارسال پیامک صوتی انبوه

نمایندگی پنل صوتی

پیامک عاشقانه انگلیسی با ترجمه فارسی

اس ام اس های دلتنگی عاشقانه
پیامک عاشقانه انگلیسی
اس ام اس عاشقانه انگلیسی با ترجمه فارسی
پیامک عاشقانه انگلیسی با ترجمه فارسی


I love my EYES when u look into them
I love my NAME when u say it
I love my HEART when u love it
I love my LIFE when u are in it
چشامو وقتی تو بهشون نگاه میکنی دوست دارم،
اسممو وقتی دوست دارم که تو صداش میکنی،
قلبمو وقتی دوست دارم که تو دوسش داشته باشی،
زندگیم رو وقتی دوست دارم که تو توش هستی . . .
.
.
.
The words are easy when the language is LOVE
See !
I love the y
i love the o
i love the u
put them together
وقتی زبانمون زبان عشق باشه کلمات خیلی ساده میشن!
نگاه کن؛
من Y رو دوست دارم
من O رو دوست دارم
من U رو دوست دارم!
حالا اینارو بزار کنار هم . . .
ادامه در لینک زیر
.
.
.
Falling in love is when she falls asleep in your
arms and wakes up in your dreams
عاشق شدن یعنی وقتی که اون توی آغوشت
خوابش میبره و بعد توی رویاهات بیدار میشه . . .
.
.
.
Love is Pure
Love is Sure
Love is sweet poison
that Doctors can’t cure
عشق یعنی پاکی
عشق یعنی اطمینان
عشق یه زهر شیرینه
که دکتر ها نمیتونن درمانش کنن!
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There are 3 steps to happiness:
1. you, 2. me, 3. our hearts, 4. eternity
سه گام برای رسیدن به شادی وجود داره :
۱- تو ۲- من ۳- قلبامون….و بعد ابدیت!
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greatest words : I dun wana los U
pleasant words : I care for U
sweet words : I admire U
wonderful words : miss U
most important word : YOU
5 تا از بزرگترین کلمات : من نمیخوام از دستت بدم.
۴ تا از دوست داشتنی ترین کلمات : تو برام مهم هستی.
۳ تا کلمه ی شیرین : تورو تحسین میکنم.
۲ تا کلمه ی شگفت انگیز : دلتنگت هستم.
۱ کلمه که از همه مهمتره : “تو”
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Knock! Knock! May I Come Into Ur World?
I Bring No Flowers, No Gifts But Wishes
To Keep U Fresh, Prayers To Keep U
Healthy & Love To Keep U Smiling
تق! تق! اجازه هست پا به دنیای تو بزارم؟ من با خودم گل نمیارم،
با خودم هدیه هم نمیارم اما یه عالمه آرزو با خودم میارم که تورو همیشه تر و تازه نگه داره،
با خدم کلی دعا میارم برای سلامتی تو، و با خودم عشق میارم تا کاری کنم تو همیشه لبخند بزنی . . .
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Find arms that will hold u at ur weakest,
eyes that will c u at ur ugliest
heart that will luv at ur worst,
if u hv found it, u’ve found luv
دستایی رو پیدا کن که در ضعیف ترین حالتت نگهت دارن،
چشمایی که در زشت ترین حالتت نگاهت کنن
قلبی رو که وقتی توی بد ترین حالت هستی دوست داشته باشه؛
اگر تونستی اینارو پیدا کنی بدون که عشق رو پیدا کردی . . .
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The essential sadness is to go through life without loving
But it would be almost equally sad to leave this world without ever telling
those you love
بد ترین غم اینه که وارد زندگی بشی که توش عشق وجود نداشته باشه
تقریبا مثل این میمونه که این دنیا رو ترک کنی بدون اینکه
به کسایی که دوسشون داری چیزی از عشقت گفته باشی . . . !
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Accidents do happen.i slip- i trip- i stumble-
i fall & usually i dont care at all.
but now i dont know what to do cos
i slipped and fell in love with u
اینا همه اتفاقیه که میفته…. من لیز میخورم، میلغزم ، تلو تلو میخورم،
میافتم و اکثرا هم اصلا اهمیت نمیدم اما حالا نمیدونم چیکار کنم!
آخه ایندفه لیز خوردم و توی عشق تو افتادم !
(در اصل منظور این بوده که عاشق تو شدم!)
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A bell is no bell ’til u ring it, a song is no song ’til u sing it & luv in ur
heart wasnt love put there to stay – luv isnt luv ’til you give it away
یک زنگ هیچی نیست تا وقتی به صدا درش بیاری، یک شعر تا وقتی خونده نشه شعر نیست،
عشق توی قلب تو تا وقتی که اسیرش کنی عشق نیست،
عشق وقتی عشقه که رهاش کنی تا بره (به دیگه ای هدیه بدیش)
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I wish i was ur blanket,i wish i was ur bed, i wish i was ur pillow
underneath ur head,i wanna b around u,
i wanna hold u tight, & b the lucky person
who kisses u goodnite
کاش میشد من پتوی تو بودم، کاش میشد توی تخت تو بودم
آرزو داشتم که بالش تو باشم، زیر سرت باشم
میخوام همیشه اطراف تو باشم، میخوام تورو محکم در آغوش بگیرم،
دلم میخواد من همون شخص خوش شانسی باشم که میبوستت و بهت شب بخیر میگه
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love is like war
easy to start
and difficult to end
عشق مثل جنگ میمونه
شروع کردنش خیلی آسونه
اما پایان دادنش سخته
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my” love” is non stop like ”sea”
its ”trust” like ”blind”
its”shine” like ”star”
its”warm” like ”sun”
its” soft” like ”flower”
AND
its ” beautiful” like ”u”
عشق مثل دریا هرگز متوقف نمیشه.
عشق مثل یه آدم کور اطمینان میکنه.
عشق مثل ستاره میدرخشه.
عشق مثل خورشید گرم میکنه.
عشق مثل گل ها لطیفه.
و
عشق درست مثل تو زیباست
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To Luv some1 is madness, 2b loved by some1 is a Gift
Loving some1 who loves u is a duty,
but being loved by some1 whom u luv is LIFE
دوست داشتن یه نفر دیوونگیه، دوست داشته شدن توسط یه نفر یک هدیه ست
دوست داشتن کسی که دوست داره وظیفست،
اما دوست داشته شدن توسط کسی که دوسش داری زندگیه!
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In life luv is neither planned nor does it happen
for a reason but when the luv is real
it becomes your plan for life n reason for living
توی زندگی عاشق شدن نه برنامه ریزی شدست و نه با دلیل اتفاق میفته
اما وقتی که عشق حقیقی باشه تبدیل میشه به برنامه ی زندگیتون و دلیل زنده بودنتون




The kites always rise with adverse winds
بادکنک ها همیشه با باد مخالف اوج میگیرند



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The losers find problem in every answer but the winners find an answer in every problem.
بازنده ها در هر جواب مشکلی را می بینند، ولی برنده در هر مشکلی جوابی را می بیند



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The beauty of a woman
Is not in the clothes she wears,
The figure she carries,
Or the way she combs her hair
زیبایی یه زن به لباسهایی که پوشیده ... ژستی که گرفته
و یا مدل مویی که واسه خودش ساخته نیست



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Live for ourselves not for showing that to others..
برای خود زندگی کنیم نه برای نمایش دادن آن به دیگران



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Instead of success in a base I hate, I prefer to loose in a base I enjoy.
به جای موفقیت در چیزی که از آن نفرت دارم، ترجیح می دهم در چیزی شکست بخورم که از آن لذت می برم



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You will reap what you plant in your minds farm
آن چه را که در مزرعه ذهن خود کاشته اید درو خواهید کرد



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the old man didnot know number of friend.
آدمهارا از روی قدمت دوستانشان بشناسید نه از روی تعداد آنها



همچنین بخوانید : اس ام اس تبریک کریسمس انگلیسی با ترجمه فارسی
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Perhaps the sea's definition of shell is pearl
Perhaps the time's definition of coal is diamond
شاید مروارید، تعریف دریا از صدف است
شاید الماس، تعریف زمان از ذغال سنگ است



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the health of mother who stood bent on world
به سلامتیه مادر که خمیده ترین ایستاده دنیاست.



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Gods decide is out of our hindsight power but it is always beneficial for us.
تصمیم خداوند از قدرت درک ما خارج است اما همیشه به سود ما می باشد .



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The strength of a man isn't seen in the width of his shoulders.
It is seen in the width of his arms that encircle you.
قدرت و صلابت یه مرد در پهن بودن شونه هاش نیست
بلکه در این هست که چقدر میتونی به اون تکیه کنی و اون میتونه تو رو حمایت کنه



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war is for living and living is for love
جنگ برای زندگیست و زندگی برای دوست داشتن



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Prayer is not a "spare wheel" that you pull out when in trouble, but it is a "steering wheel", that directs the right path throughout.
دعا لاستیک یدک نیست که هرگاه مشکل داشتی از ان استفاده کنی بلکه فرمان است که راه به راه درست هدایت می کند.



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When you catch in a calumny, you know your real friends.
هنگامی که درگیر یک رسوایی می شوی ، در می یابی دوستان واقعی ات چه کسانی هستند

پنل پیامک صوتی

پیامک صوتی

ارسال پیامک صوتی

سامانه پیامک صوتی

پیامک صوتی انبوه

ارسال پیامک صوتی انبوه

پیامک صوتی صدارس

پیام صوتی

پنل پیام صوتی

ارسال پیام صوتی

پنل ارسال پیامک صوتی

پنل ارسال پیام صوتی

نمایندگی پیام صوتی

نمایندگی پیامک صوتی

نمایندگی پنل پیامک صوتی

پنل صوتی

تبدیل متن به صوت

تبدیل متن به صدا

تبدیل متن فارسی به صوت

تبدیل متن فارسی به صدا

پنل پیامک صوتی رایگان

پیامک صوتی رایگان

اپراتور مجازی تلفن همراه

تلفن همراه مجازی

شماره موبایل مجازی

شماره تلفن همراه مجازی

تلفن مجازی

اپراتور مجازی

تبلیغات صوتی

پیام صوتی صدارس

صدارس

پیامک صوتی صدارس

ارسال پیامک صوتی انبوه

نمایندگی پنل صوتی