Sonnet 73 (Latin translation)
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 seest 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 seest the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed 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.
In me conspicere potes tempus anni
quo folia sive flava, sive pauca, sive nulla
e ramis frigore fremebundis pendentia,
deserta dirutaque saepta, ubi parum antea aves canebant.
In me conspicis crepusculum illius diei
qui in occidente evanescit post solis occasum
quemque paulatim abducet atra nox
imago mortis quae omnia in requie concludet.
In me conspicis ruborem illius ignis
qui super cineres iuventutis suae moratur
sicut lectus mortualis in quo periendum est,
cum assumptus erit ab hoc quo nutriebatur
Haec conspicis quibus amor tuus fortior fit
ut haec melius ames quae tibi haud longe abhinc relinquenda erunt.
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