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I would like to be deaf to the world's noise,
to hear with a clear fully absorbed mind, that lofty angelic music--sweet notes-- tell us that real peace belongs to real love. A passionate air, a breath steals from chord to chord in those living instruments, shapes their melodies into one arch, one end; eternal harmony is never jarred. Love lifts their voices high, melts them away, Love makes the inclusive stately measure: no note left out, none out of key, none lost, none useless. The sound allures ever more, the diapason ever richer--since He who composed this song worked caringly. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: V XL:200. See also B S1:28:99 and MS V2 and Valgrisi 28. Translations: Harford 13; McAuliffe 116-7; Gibaldi 39. Key |
