And the last piece I'm going to read
is a translation of a Shakespeare sonnet,
from English to English.
And Susan, has been so kind as to read the original.
We'll see.
"Sonnet 73."
"That time of year thou mayst in me
behold, When yellow leaves, or none, or few,
do hang upon these 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 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 death bed where on 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.
Thank you.
"That Time in Me Amulet--
Love Sonnet to Letters."
"Knowing I cannot contain them, I keep no leaves in my pockets.
But bring them inside, construct amulets.
Adorn your sleeping limbs with canticles of birds.
You keep me warm.
At dusk you undress, and look at me bare ruined for rest.
Night begins as you turn, and seal second sight.
Reclined amid leaves, or none, or few.
Darkness steals, but inside time we consume.
I light a candle, and refuse to admit the late hour.
Instead in love you say, ash precedes crystal and so
if we are to depart we go as one.
Why write about death instead of bliss?
You know I wouldn't love you any less if there
were no possible end to love."
Thank you.
[APPLAUSE]