I must shake off dignity, like earth, be ploughed,
I must see how unimportant I am,
break new ground deep in my heart's core,
I must root out this waste choking, emerge
from these fetid waters drowning me, reach
sound ground for God's love to rain upon, dew
to bring forth from earth's seed fruit, flowers, not
this wild naked brush, these stunted branches.
Before I'm put in the darkness, before
this vain and useless body is dead, when
it'll be too late for warmth and sunlight--
pray let my heart see the only humble
man who ever was, help me for all time
control these obscure dark thoughts, this proud will.
|An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition|
From V XVI:176. See also B S1:39:104. No MSs; Valgrisi 39. Translations: Roscoe 101; Lefèvre-Deumier 99. Key