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|
V XL:200. See also B S1:28:99 and MS V2 and Valgrisi 28. Translations: Harford 13; McAuliffe 116-7; Gibaldi 39. Key