Came across this Shakespeare sonnet in the Bruce La Bruce film, Gerontophilia, 2013, which, as mentioned, I’m watching in prep for our interview. Melvin, the elder man, recites it to Lake, his young lover, while they dance in a nightclub on the former’s 82nd birthday. Its a brilliant moody scene, the whole film entrancing. Anyway, here’s the sonnet, because I think its beautiful, and because I am deeply moved by its embodiment of sleep as “death’s second self”. As a person who is prone to luxuriate and hide in sleep, or struggle against it, its particularly poignant. Enjoy!
That time of year thou mayst in me behold (Sonnet 73)
by William Shakespeare
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.
– See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15844#sthash.2uxfUsNN.dpuf
