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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 |
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Notes: From V CLXXXVII:347. See also B S1:90:130. No MSs; Valgrisi 91. Translations: Tusiani 177; Gibaldi 42. Key |
