God gives two lights: one helps until we reach
that momentary frail movement into
death, a fleeting thought, passing vanished deeds:
one thinks, discerns, understands, desires.
the other allows us to worship Him:
a sense of something other, deserted
steps, unused paths, making us lean, great wings
sheltering, yielding His presence always.
The first, called reason--it's human nature,
we say--lets animal passions compel,
restrain, conquer the nobler gentle heart;
sensing that other one forgets self, scorns
the world, the heart closes against shadows
opens to transforming light, part of God.
|An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition|
From V XXXIX:199. See also B S1:13:191; R XXVI:448-9. Translations: McAuliffe 109; Gibaldi 39. Key