My Master is coming... oh quickly now,
soul, drive away these thick clouds clinging round
my heart, let not my dark earthly passion
cast a shadow over His radiance.
My failure, my weakness dimmed my vision,
obstacles were in the way; I could not
get to that splendor--I must expunge warped
ideas, delusions darkening my mind.
He comes willingly, eagerly to me--
I feel gay, supremely blest--to be His
as He is mine--in this feast of love we
share. It is right to banish this blind world,
abandon it: die here now to live in
God's arms--He loves, honors those who are His.
|An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition|
From V CXCV:355. See also B S1:19:94. (In MS L, Tordi 47r). Translation: Roscoe 346-7. Key