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Out of profound love, and through a gentle slow transformation, our Father and those in Paradise in countless ways are ever loosening the knots strangling us, to free us to address our hearts to God. So changed, so roused, I turn eagerly, with an aching longing, bind myself through ties that cannot be undone, fastened with nails of iron, until this bitter way of death seems the sweetest, most honorable gift life offers. Faith is born; from faith, light; from light, hope; from hope, life's vivid flame. Passion yields, tired rebel, flies to Paradise at long last shuns, careless of mortal cares. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: From V CLXXXI:341. See also B S1:95:132; R XXV:447-8. MSs: L, V2, CASI, RA, Ve2; Valgrisi 96. Key |
