Alas, Holy Spirit, reach down to me

Alas, Holy Spirit, reach down to me,
lift off this confused sense of absence, of
something there I can't reach, send me some light
to scatter all the shadows in my mind,

and then seek out and dissolve the ice ribbed
round, stir my heart. I look up but a mist,
that denseness which spoils the best, blocks what light
I have--my soul seeks her good but prefers

loving herself to having the truth. Frail,
sick as I am, for me Your light's not there,
and I can't feel the Sun's omnipotence,

no warmth without it. Shelter, clothe me in
your wings, save--I beg of you--give me life
to fly into unfathomed light and love.

An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition
From V CVI:266. See also B S1:127:148. No MSs; Valgrisi 128. Translation: Roscoe 324. Key

Amaro Lagrimar
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