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If this fleeting sound, the gentlest of breaths
moving round and round, an air stealing into the soul, emerging from some spirit within the self, opening, releasing words, frail, ephemeral, sweet; if such sweetness frees us from these sordid cares, vile assaults, and expands the heart, rouses, strengthens, and brightens the mind, leading the will to turn and fly on desire's light wings--how will it be when love's eagerness, the soul's inner ear hears vividly, intent only on truth, in God's presence, secret harmonies--tone, measure cannot go awry, no discord will mar that proud beautiful melody. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: V XLI:201. See also B S1:27:98m and MS V2, L, and Valgrisi 27. Translations: Roscoe 342; Lefèvre-Deumier 102. Key |
