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If only on those days when my hallowed Sun dazzles the eyes, its noon radiance shaped the beautiful thoughts of a loving mind beyond the clouds everywhere one looked, there'd be no need for blind people to seek knowledge from the stars they worship in this or that hemisphere: one ray of this Sun's fiery light would reveal what is real power, real magnificence. A dark thick fog of passion dims perception, and weak mental vision sees but earth's lesser lights, can be deflected and waver, but fixed is the passionate urge to find meaning now in the stars, now in the Sun Himself. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: From V L:210. See also B S1:85:127; MS V2; Valgrisi 86. Key |
