Wild geese cry
Above the frosty roofs;
Yes, according to the old calendar, autumn is ending. It ends with Halloween, the present day incarnation of the ancient holiday Samhain that marked the point at which the time of darkness and cold increases — the beginning of winter.
There is an interesting sonnet (#73) by Shakespeare that, in spite of its antiquated language, reveals the same universal correspondences we find in hokku. I will give each stanza in the original, followed by a paraphrase.
But first, I want to talk about about the poet and the person to whom the poem is addressed. Contrary to some interpretations, I do not read this poem as a love poem addressed by an old man to a young woman. It just does not fit. And in spite of all the publicity given youth-age Hollywood “for profit” marriages, romantically the young — let’s face it — love the young, not the old. And as the old Victorian song goes,
‘Tis sad when you think of her wasted life,
For youth cannot mate with age.
That is why when I read this poem, I think of an old man addressing someone only a little younger than himself, such as might be said in an old married couple who have shared their mellowed love for many years beyond the time of burning, sensual romance. I think it will make more sense to you as well if read that way. So let’s give it a try.
The poet begins with an analogy: he, in his old age, is like the season of late autumn:
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 ruin’d choirs where late the sweet birds sang.
You can see in me that I am like that time of year
When yellow leaves — or few of them or none of them —
Hang on branches that shake in the cold [wind] —
Like bare ruined choirs where just a little time ago the sweet birds sang.
The poet is saying that his listener can see he is in the late autumn of life, when only a few altered traces — or maybe even none — of his youth remain. He feels his aged appearance is like the cold bare branches of trees from which the leaves that made them attractive have nearly or all fallen.
Shakespeare uses a very effective and poetic metaphor here:
“Bare ruin’d choirs where late the sweet birds sang.“
He is using “choirs” here in its architectural sense, so he does not mean choirs of singers here, but rather choirs as those parts of old English churches that were furnished with wooden stalls in which the members of the choir sat. Here is a modern image of such stalls in an architectural choir:
Knowing now that meaning of “choirs” here, you can picture the
“Bare ruin’d choirs where late the sweet birds sang“
as the cold tree branches bereft of leaves, where earlier in the season the birds still sang sweetly.
Now he makes second analogy: his life is like the twilight, the end of day:
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, the poet says, you see the twilight of a day that will fade in the West after sunset, its light taken away by black night — a thing akin to Death, and like Death, the night will cover everything with rest.
Then he uses a third analogy: his life is like a weak fire that will soon go out:
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,
Consum’d by 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, he says, you see the glow of a fire that barely remains on the ashes it created when it was stronger — the death-bed-like ashes upon which it will extinguish itself, consumed by the same energy that previously made it burn brightly. The same energy of life that made me strong and attractive in youth will now in old age burn the last of what remains of my life.
As Lord Byron wrote,
And the poet finishes it all by saying,
You see all of these signs of aging and death approaching, and they only make your love for me stronger, because they tell you that soon I shall die and you must say goodbye to all our years together, because I shall be no more.
We often find in hokku the equivalency between autumn and human aging, just as we find the equivalency between twilight and age. The difference, however, is that in Western poetry for the most part — as here in Shakespeare — these equivalencies are openly expressed. In hokku, however, twilight and autumn are not symbols of aging, or analogies or similes of aging — they are merely things that happen in Nature. Yet seeing them happen, they evoke in us the equivalencies, even though they are not openly expressed. Instead, we say that age is “reflected” in twilight and autumn, meaning the equivalency is much more subtle — unspoken in hokku, but expressed openly and clearly in English poetry.