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A candle is lit in the hushed cloister, primal, sacred, beautiful, God's true Son, whose ordeal is our model: she who gazes here lets go desire, for she has reached hope's true end. No entanglement pressures, no grief clutches at one beyond the snares of our lies and anxieties: Oh! my husband who seems to me mingled in this lovely light, a spirit the world still honors and is in awe of, what rank or radiant circle in paradise was yours? how have you come to me dissolved into this light? A just hand rewards, an upright Son guides, yes, now you are a princ e |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: From V XXVIII:28. See also B A1:39:22, R XXVI: 83-87. Ref: 1 Cor 13; 2 Cor 5. Compare "Quanto toglie un desir rende un pensiero," A desire death has taken from me--/to see him again--. Key |
