Monday, May 25, 2015


As I drew nearer to the end of all desire,
I brought my longing's ardor to a final height,
Just as I ought. My vision, becoming pure,

Entered more and more the beam of that high light
That shines on its own truth. From then, my seeing
Became too large for speech, which fails at a sight

Beyond all boundaries, at memory's undoing --
As when the dreamer sees and after the dream
The passion endures, imprinted on his being

Though he can't recall the rest. I am the same:
Inside my heart, although my vision is almost
Entirely faded, droplets of its sweetness come

The way the sun dissolves the snow's crust --
The way, in the wind that stirred the light leaves,
The oracle that the Sibyl wrote was lost.

Dante, Paradiso, XXXIII:46-48, 52-66
Translated by Robert Pinsky

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