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I must shake off dignity, like earth, be ploughed, I must see how unimportant I am, break new ground deep in my heart's core, I must root out this waste choking, emerge from these fetid waters drowning me, reach sound ground for God's love to rain upon, dew to bring forth from earth's seed fruit, flowers, not this wild naked brush, these stunted branches. Before I'm put in the darkness, before this vain and useless body is dead, when it'll be too late for warmth and sunlight-- pray let my heart see the only humble man who ever was, help me for all time control these obscure dark thoughts, this proud will. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: From V XVI:176. See also B S1:39:104. No MSs; Valgrisi 39. Translations: Roscoe 101; Lefèvre-Deumier 99. Key |
