That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the deathbed whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourished by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the deathbed whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourished by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
William Shakespeare
Contempla in me quell'epoca dell'anno
Quando foglie ingiallite, poche o nessuna, pendono
Da quei rami tremanti contro il freddo,
Nudi cori in rovina, ove dolci cantarono gli uccelli
Tu vedi in me il crepuscolo di un giorno,
Quale dopo il tramonto svanisce all'occidente,
Subito avvolto dalla notte nera,
Gemella della morte, che tutto sigilla nel riposo.
Tu vedi in me il languire di quel fuoco,
Ce aleggia sulle ceneri della propria giovinezza,
Come sul letto di morte su cui dovrà spirare,
Consunto da ciò che già fu suo alimento.
Questo tu vedi, che fa il tuo amore più forte,
A degnamente amare chi presto ti verrà meno.
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