In me you can see that time of the year
When a few yellow leaves or none at all hang
On the branches, shaking against the cold,
Bare ruins of church choirs where lately the sweet birds sang.
In me you can see only the dim light that remains
After the sun sets in the west,
Which is soon extinguished by black night,
The image of death that envelops all in rest.
I am like a glowing ember
Lying on the dying flame of my youth,
As on the death bed where it must finally expire,
Consumed by that which once fed it.
This you sense, and it makes your love more determined
Causing you to love that which you must give up before long.
-William Shakespeare

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