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I have had a good dream--a beautiful
hand untied the knots pressing in on my heart, cut away the ancient scars, leaving not a trace of damage, and led me from false images heaped up over the years, mistakes which were all too evident. My mind clears, and I'm no longer haunted by regrets, anxieties whose sweet fruits were but more bitterness. Lightning never split clouds with a crack so sudden, so violent. The veil parted, and I felt sound once more. I felt a hand re-form me as I prayed, the hand that made that sky so gentle that my heart trembles still--with joy and wonder. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: V I:387. See also B A1:84:45. Translations: Lefévre-Deumier 39; Thèrault 149. Key |
