When, Lord, may I come into your presence?
what day may I come near to stay? I crave
the absorption and calm my mind would know,
for I'm confused, wander in a mist, can
barely hold on, keep your light before me.
Sometimes I glimpse a pattern, a shadow
cast over my heart--but brilliant colors,
dazzling radiance only in snatches.
Today rip open--with those wounded hands--
this veil twisted round me for twenty years,
riddled with mistakes, I'm entangled still.
Ah no more to be hounded or repressed
by sordid views or the world's well-known ways,
free me, fix my mind blissfully on You.
|An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition|
From V CLXXXVII:347. See also B S1:90:130. No MSs; Valgrisi 91. Translations: Tusiani 177; Gibaldi 42. Key