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|
From V CXXXV:295. See also B S1:44:107; no MSs; Valgrisi 44. Key