It's there, in there, radiant eternal
life--and as you penetrate into His
garden enclosed by thousands of branches
criss-crossed every which way, the green deepens.
They're happy there, while we, human, without
their nobility and strength, shut out from
this lovely shade, long to return with them
to Him to this Elysium where He
feeds, cleanses, supports, and rules; and there if
any bring forth fruits, flowers, these, rooted
in the Gardener, mirror perfect beauty.
Ah! He's strewn everywhere a fragrance so
sweet into dawn's pale returning dew to
make all new, fresh, open, and transparent.
|An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition|
V CLXVII:327. See also B S1:154:162, from Valgrisi 155. Key