That Time of Year

By: William Shakespeare

That time of year thou may'st in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd 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 half, 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 in death- bed whereon it must expire,
Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by:

-This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

When the time comes for me
There should be dry leaves hanging on the tree
Bows are shaking in the wind,
Cold and empty choir.

You always see the best of me
Sun goes down in the west.
You see in me glowing fire,
This is my death bed
After I die.

Finally when I'm gone
I should be happy,
But my love remains forever..

                                                     Neriman