While you interposed your mortal body

While you interposed your mortal body,
immortal moon, between our eyes and Him,
the true Sun, no-one could accuse you of
degrading or staining Him--you were glass

we gazed into, intently, absorbed, awed
by His light. You didn't get in his way,
weren't a shadow--your prayers, His presence,
a glimmering, turned each shadow, thick black

veils, to a shimmering fleeting white. Bright
splendor, through Him, you take away darkness,
serenity softens night and His hot

anger. Above a lost muddled wrong world,
the milk God drank runs in His veins like dew,
tempers harsh justice with tender pity.

An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition
From V LXXXIX:249. See also Bullock S1, 110, 140; MSs: V2 and Ve2, L; Valgrisi 111. A seventh in a series to the virgin. Key

Amaro Lagrimar
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