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I trust You now to send an eternal wise Master, who'll be angry at us as He is good: may His radiance dazzle illumine us beneath this winter's sad dark skies; crush the rock Your sacred temple is built upon, the world's establishment, from Your innermost forge pour down fire on every wall, on all sides, let it flame out. Let those who are to blame, and who fail to lean on You alone, fall back into their bleak ocean of cold obscure passions. and may those who have lived on an ardent unchanging love, not self-devouring, dwell lovingly in brighter safer light. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: From V CXXXV:295. See also B S1:44:107; no MSs; Valgrisi 44. Key |
