وحشتيني عزازي
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Azazi grew up with his four brothers and at the age of thirteen he was influenced by the stars of the popular song at the time, including the late artist Bashir Hamad Shannan. He sang most of his songs, Azazi Wahshtini
My condolences from love from the heart
Azazi and Hamad
Azazi left me two years ago
And with the first poem of his brother Ibrahim, which is your father searching for my heart in approximately 1405 AH, his first breakthrough in the world of art was the strength of words from many poets such as his songs also, Azazi Sedqini.
Azazi Wahshtini words
Izzy accelerator
My dear, O spring of snow
dear words
Azzazi Ayani Ibrahim Al-Jamhan and his brother Ibrahim Al-Salman, Suleiman Al-Salem and Abdul Aziz Al-Shaya in a rare and organized appearance. His age I felt his face stuck in my veins from the argument of the year. My wound did not make him strong. I said Hunt. He raised his voice calling me. Yesterday, from your appeals, the tan was between the bleeding of the poem and the rubbing of my hands. I remember you. You drank the time that cries for me, in my time that I missed, that until then I have no one to comfort me. Azazi, where are the tents?
My dear, where are the millions?
The words of Azazi Wenk Albareh
Dear Yasma, where is the moon?
Where are you from?
My dear, where are you going?
My dear, when are my eyes?
My condolences from love from the heart
Azazi and Hamad
Azazi left me two years ago
And with the first poem of his brother Ibrahim, which is your father searching for my heart in approximately 1405 AH, his first breakthrough in the world of art was the strength of words from many poets such as his songs also, Azazi Sedqini.
Azazi Wahshtini words
Izzy accelerator
My dear, O spring of snow
dear words
Azzazi Ayani Ibrahim Al-Jamhan and his brother Ibrahim Al-Salman, Suleiman Al-Salem and Abdul Aziz Al-Shaya in a rare and organized appearance. His age I felt his face stuck in my veins from the argument of the year. My wound did not make him strong. I said Hunt. He raised his voice calling me. Yesterday, from your appeals, the tan was between the bleeding of the poem and the rubbing of my hands. I remember you. You drank the time that cries for me, in my time that I missed, that until then I have no one to comfort me. Azazi, where are the tents?
My dear, where are the millions?
The words of Azazi Wenk Albareh
Dear Yasma, where is the moon?
Where are you from?
My dear, where are you going?
My dear, when are my eyes?
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