Look, how quiet the sea, peaceful the waves--
my firm ship swept through this transparency,
cared for, rich with beautiful, useful things,
the air felt sweet, serene, the breeze was kind.
Hidden from me now, then the sky's kind lights
glimmered, strewn through mists which held no shadow:
those who cross thresholds easily can't see
our end isn't present in what once was.
Suddenly, I had many enemies--
the stars and fate unveiled a malicious
derisory face and the storm began--
In the sky winds, rains, flashing knives gathered:
inside, tearing, devouring monsters,
still I hold on, my sight fixed above the hills.
|An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition|
From V VI:6 & B A1:9:7. See also R XXXV:106. Translations: Lawley, 99-100; Lefevre-Deumier, 72; Jerrold 80-1; Cosman, 113; Therault, 449; Stortoni & Lillie 57. Key