How sweet is the sting of something bitter
as it physics and redeems the soul, and,
if she finds the cure too harsh, that's because
she's still ill, weak, and barely understands
what's happening. Ah, while I live in Your--
I can't look to lesser light, but must take
joy, and without human stain, fix my mind
on You alone--only through You health and
true arousal--You alone are always
kind, Your inescapable demand sweet,
Your weight light, as faith tempts me through love's door.
So to know such peace we bear life's movement
and changes, to pass into still changeless light
run through ephemeral swift-moving mists.
|An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition|
V CLXIX:329. See also B S2:16:185. Key