No summer's high
No warm July
No harvest moon to light one tender August night
No autumn breeze
No falling leaves
Not even time for birds to fly to southern skies
But what it is, is something true
Made up of these three words that I must say to you

[عزيزي الزائر يتوجب عليك التسجيل للمشاهدة الرابطللتسجيل اضغط هنا]