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Yet when I saw those waters gathered up, and cascading down from that fountain in hundreds of streams, I felt so alive, such aching pleasure, the burning thirst returned, so here am I clambering up these shores, lovely, austere, avoided by others, seeking the fountain's and the new life's source, wanting to find how it comes to us in so many kinds of cupped hands, how one drop fills the heart with faith, and helps to ford this angry sea, guides us to ride these crashing waves to safety, and to see in the sea's terrifying shudderings, the dark air, the bright haven's coming ever nearer. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: V CLXXX:340. See also B S2:14:184. Key |
