Бессрочная лицензия. Быстрая покупка — ключ отправляется на email.1
Индивидуальная техподдержка. Major-обновления приобретаются отдельно. Minor — бесплатны.
1 - оплата на сайте robokassa.ru возможна только из России российскими платежными средствами, указанными на странице оплаты.
Лицензия действует бессрочно в рамках приобретённой major-версии. После выхода новых major-версий ранее приобретённая major-версия продолжает функционировать. Подробнее — в лицензионном соглашении.
Все minor-обновления внутри приобретенной major-версии предоставляются бесплатно.
Переход на новую major-версию осуществляется на платной основе.
Для Aui ConverteR и Aui Audio Upscaler обновления приобретаются независимо.
Пример major-обновления: изменение версии с 14.3 до 15.0.
Пример minor-обновления: изменение версии с 14.2 до 14.5.
Фокус на сохранении качества исходного материала. А при возможности режима bit-perfect меняется только формат.
Разработаны специально для Hi-Res и DSD аудио. Созданы для точной обработки.
Начните работу без сложных настроек или инструкций.
…Наконец, я выбрал AuI ConverteR просто потому, что качество звука у файлов, конвертированных этой программой, лучше, чем у других программ, которые я пробовал…
CD-риппер работает идеально… Музыка играет без каких-либо пропусков…
Я только что апсемплировал Little Feat – Waiting for Columbus (1978, MSFL) до 384, и всё, что могу сказать – ВАУ!!!…
Программа AuI ConverteR 48x44 является уникальным инструментом. По качеству обработки аудио мне она нравится больше, чем многие известные профессиональные программные продукты…
Mihai felt a swell of something he hadn’t felt in years—pride, relief, and a profound sense of connection. In that moment, the screen was no longer a barrier; it was a bridge. The following days, Mihai kept watching the film, each time noticing a new nuance in the subtitles he had crafted. He realized that translation was not a one‑time act but an ongoing dialogue between creator and audience. He began to write a blog post titled “The Last Frame: Translating Silence in a Pandemic” , exploring how subtitling could preserve memory, give voice to the voiceless, and create a shared language for a fragmented world.
The reply came almost instantly: “Thank you, Mihai. I’m Ana. I’ve already done the English version. The French one is in progress. If you can do Romanian, we’ll be done. The deadline is tight—our community depends on this.” Mihai felt the weight of the request settle on his shoulders. This was more than a job; it was an act of resistance against a world that tried to mute itself. Mihai downloaded the video and opened his subtitle editor. He paused the film at the first frame—a close‑up of a cracked window, rain pattering against the glass. The child’s eyes were wide, reflecting a world he could not see. He wrote: [0:12] “The sky fell, and the city held its breath.” He continued, letting the images guide his words. Each frame was a poem, each gesture a sentence. The piano’s melancholy chords became metaphors: [2:04] “Each note is a heartbeat, fading into the night.” He worked in bursts, the glow of the screen his only companion. The city outside his window was silent, the streets empty, the air thick with a strange stillness. He could hear the distant hum of an ambulance, the muffled coughs through walls, the rustle of newspapers being read for the first time in months. Mihai felt a swell of something he hadn’t
Months later, when the world began to breathe again, the streets filled with people, laughter, and the clatter of cafés. Yet the quiet moments—when a child blew bubbles in a courtyard or an elderly couple shared a silent smile—still carried the weight of those empty days. He realized that translation was not a one‑time
A week later, he received an email from a film festival organizer in Prague. They had noticed his subtitle work and wanted to invite him to a panel titled He accepted, feeling both humbled and exhilarated. Epilogue – The Echo Continues April 21, 2020, became a date etched into Mihai’s memory not for its calendar significance, but for the moment he realized that a single line of text could echo louder than any megaphone. The film “Echoes of the Forgotten” continued to circulate, subtitled in dozens of languages, each version a testament to the power of collaboration. I’m Ana
Prologue The world had shrunk to a screen. In the spring of 2020, when streets fell silent and the hum of distant traffic became a memory, people turned inward—into apartments, into kitchens, into the glowing rectangles that had always been there, now the only windows to the world outside.
He posted the article on his personal site, linking to the YouTube video and encouraging readers to support independent cinema. The article was shared across social media, sparking conversations about the role of translators in the digital age.
Через надёжный сервис Robokassa: банковские карты, СБП, СберPay, TPay, ЯндексPay.
Лицензионный ключ и ссылка на загрузку приходят после оплаты на email, введенный Вами на странице платежа. Как правило, ключ высылается в течение 1 или нескольких часов после оплаты.
Скачайте бесплатную версию и проверьте качество звука, а также совместимость перед покупкой.
Для простых вопросов:
Mihai felt a swell of something he hadn’t felt in years—pride, relief, and a profound sense of connection. In that moment, the screen was no longer a barrier; it was a bridge. The following days, Mihai kept watching the film, each time noticing a new nuance in the subtitles he had crafted. He realized that translation was not a one‑time act but an ongoing dialogue between creator and audience. He began to write a blog post titled “The Last Frame: Translating Silence in a Pandemic” , exploring how subtitling could preserve memory, give voice to the voiceless, and create a shared language for a fragmented world.
The reply came almost instantly: “Thank you, Mihai. I’m Ana. I’ve already done the English version. The French one is in progress. If you can do Romanian, we’ll be done. The deadline is tight—our community depends on this.” Mihai felt the weight of the request settle on his shoulders. This was more than a job; it was an act of resistance against a world that tried to mute itself. Mihai downloaded the video and opened his subtitle editor. He paused the film at the first frame—a close‑up of a cracked window, rain pattering against the glass. The child’s eyes were wide, reflecting a world he could not see. He wrote: [0:12] “The sky fell, and the city held its breath.” He continued, letting the images guide his words. Each frame was a poem, each gesture a sentence. The piano’s melancholy chords became metaphors: [2:04] “Each note is a heartbeat, fading into the night.” He worked in bursts, the glow of the screen his only companion. The city outside his window was silent, the streets empty, the air thick with a strange stillness. He could hear the distant hum of an ambulance, the muffled coughs through walls, the rustle of newspapers being read for the first time in months.
Months later, when the world began to breathe again, the streets filled with people, laughter, and the clatter of cafés. Yet the quiet moments—when a child blew bubbles in a courtyard or an elderly couple shared a silent smile—still carried the weight of those empty days.
A week later, he received an email from a film festival organizer in Prague. They had noticed his subtitle work and wanted to invite him to a panel titled He accepted, feeling both humbled and exhilarated. Epilogue – The Echo Continues April 21, 2020, became a date etched into Mihai’s memory not for its calendar significance, but for the moment he realized that a single line of text could echo louder than any megaphone. The film “Echoes of the Forgotten” continued to circulate, subtitled in dozens of languages, each version a testament to the power of collaboration.
Prologue The world had shrunk to a screen. In the spring of 2020, when streets fell silent and the hum of distant traffic became a memory, people turned inward—into apartments, into kitchens, into the glowing rectangles that had always been there, now the only windows to the world outside.
He posted the article on his personal site, linking to the YouTube video and encouraging readers to support independent cinema. The article was shared across social media, sparking conversations about the role of translators in the digital age.
Лицензионные ключи требуют активации.
ОБЯЗАТЕЛЬНО ПЕРЕД ПОКУПКОЙ: Скачайте бесплатную версию АудивенторИ КонвертеР и проверьте его работоспособность и всю функциональность на компьютере, на котором Вы планируете устанавливать АудивенторИ КонвертеР. Также убедитесь, качество звука конвертированных файлов удовлетворяет Вас. Оно такое же, как и в платных версиях.
ИП Корзунов Юрий Борисович, ОГРНИП 315619600016046, г. Ростов-на-Дону
Договор публичной оферты Политика конфиденциальности Политика безопасности
© Yuri Korzunov, 2026
Вся информация на сайте носит ознакомительный характер и не является публичной офертой.