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We inherit dark lights, things obscurely
known, false truths, evil justice, enemies, bold for love, strong in faith, imperious bastards in war, humble in times of peace. When God takes us we can give Him all we are; let that living torch burn our souls clean we can return the glittering prizes, the sensual feast that pleased our weak flesh. The flash of a great ring of endless flames fans out all around me, the ice loosens, and the dense bleak dark fog scatters, breaks apart. The fire which burns and can hurt us warms, lights our space, reveals life's traps, and shows me a safe path to keep to when the skies allow. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: V LVI:216. See also B S1:71:120, from Valgrisi 72. Key |
