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It's there, in there, radiant eternal
life--and as you penetrate into His garden enclosed by thousands of branches criss-crossed every which way, the green deepens. They're happy there, while we, human, without their nobility and strength, shut out from this lovely shade, long to return with them to Him to this Elysium where He feeds, cleanses, supports, and rules; and there if any bring forth fruits, flowers, these, rooted in the Gardener, mirror perfect beauty. Ah! He's strewn everywhere a fragrance so sweet into dawn's pale returning dew to make all new, fresh, open, and transparent. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: V CLXVII:327. See also B S1:154:162, from Valgrisi 155. Key |
