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Ceaselessly the Sun pours down radiance upon us, doles it out no matter how pious or just our desires, how austere our dress, ascetic our lives. Why then turn over so many pages? Rather pray for freedom from wrong-doing, the more the soul concentrates on herself, the more she lets go, loses her sense of His perspective. Close that grim eye, open the quick--winged with faith and hope the loving mind soars. Ah, only the low, the humbled know how sacred writings can steal into the heart, or, should I say, only those who've studied little, believed in a great deal. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: From V CLII:312. See also B S1:164:167; no MSsi; Valgrisi 70 & 165. Translation: Bainton 205-6. For a interesting commentary see MFirpo, "Vittoria Colonna, Giovanni Morone e Gli 'Spirituali," Rivisita di storia e letteratura religiosa, 24 (1988), 211-61 (see p 238). Key |
