Inferno
The Wood of Thorns. The Harpies. The Violent against themselves. Suicides. Pier della Vigna. Lano and Ja- copo da Sant' Andrea.
Nessus had not yet reached the other shore
when we entered a wood unmarked by any path.
The leaves were not green but dark and withered,
the branches not smooth but gnarled and twisted—
not fruit trees but poisonous thorns.
Even the savage beasts that haunt the wasteland
between Cecina and Corneto
know no thickets so dense and tangled.
Here the hideous Harpies make their nests,
those creatures who drove the Trojans from the Strophades
with prophecies of coming doom.
They have broad wings, human necks and faces,
clawed feet, and feathered bellies.
They wail their mournful cries from the strange trees.
My good master said: "Before you go further,
know that you are in the second ring
and will remain here until you reach
the horrible sand beyond.
Look carefully around you—
you will see things that give proof to my words."
View larger
THE HARPIES' WOOD
“My good master said: "Before you go further,”
I heard lamentations on every side
but saw no one who could be making them.
Bewildered, I stood frozen.
I think he thought I might be thinking
these voices issued from the trunks,
from people hiding themselves from us.
So my master said: "If you break off
a small branch from any of these trees,
your assumptions will prove completely wrong."
I reached out my hand
and plucked a twig from a great thorn.
The trunk cried out: "Why do you tear me apart?"
Dark with blood, it cried again:
"Why do you wound me?
Have you no compassion at all?
We were men once, now we are trees.
Your hand should show more mercy
even if we had been the souls of serpents."
View larger
THE SUICIDES
“and plucked a twig from a great thorn. / The trunk cried out: "Why do you tear me apart?" / Dark with blood, it cried again:”
Like a green log burning at one end
that drips and hisses with escaping sap,
so from that broken branch came both words and blood.
I dropped the twig and stood there terrified.
"O wounded soul," my sage replied,
"if he could have believed sooner
what he had seen only in my verses,
he would not have raised his hand against you.
But the incredible nature of this place
forced me to urge him to this act, which grieves me.
Tell him who you were, so that he might
restore your reputation in the world above,
to which he is allowed to return."
The trunk said: "Your sweet words so entice me
I cannot remain silent. Do not be troubled
that I am drawn to speak a little.
I am the one who held both keys
to Frederick's heart, turning them so gently
in locking and unlocking
that I kept most men from his secrets.
I bore such faith to that glorious office
that I lost sleep and strength.
The whore who never turns her lustful eyes
from Caesar's court—the universal death
and vice of courts—
inflamed all other minds against me.
The inflamed inflamed Augustus himself,
so my bright honors turned to bitter grief.
My spirit, in scornful pride,
thinking death would free me from scorn,
made me, though just, unjust against myself.
By the strange roots of this wood
I swear to you that I never broke faith
with my lord, who was so worthy of honor.
If one of you returns to the world,
restore my memory, which still lies
crushed beneath the blow that envy dealt."
The poet waited, then said to me:
"Since he is silent, do not waste time—
speak and ask him what more you wish to know."
I replied: "You ask him again
whatever you think will satisfy me.
I cannot—such pity fills my heart."
So he began again: "Imprisoned spirit,
so that this man may freely do
what your words request,
please tell us how the soul is bound
within these knots, and if you can,
whether any soul is ever freed from such limbs."
Then the trunk blew hard,
and the wind became this voice:
"I will answer you briefly.
When the violent soul abandons
the body from which it tore itself,
Minos assigns it to the seventh circle.
It falls into this forest with no chosen place—
wherever Fortune hurls it,
there it sprouts like a grain of wheat.
It grows into a sapling, then a forest tree.
The Harpies, feeding on its leaves,
create pain and a vent for pain.
Like the others, we will return for our bodies
on Judgment Day, but not to wear them again—
it is not just to have what one has cast away.
Here we will drag them, and throughout this gloomy forest
our bodies will hang suspended,
each on the thorn-tree of its tormented shade."
We were still listening to the trunk,
thinking it might tell us more,
when we were startled by a tumult—
like a hunter who hears the boar
and the chase approaching his station,
hearing the crash of beasts and breaking branches.
Look! On our left, two figures
naked and scratched, fleeing so wildly
they shattered every barrier of the forest.
The one in front: "Come quickly, Death!"
The other, who seemed too slow, shouted:
"Lano, your legs were not so nimble
at the tournament of Toppo!"
View larger
THE SUICIDES
“The one in front: "Come quickly, Death!" / The other, who seemed too slow, shouted: / "Lano, your legs were not so nimble”
Then, perhaps because his breath was failing,
he threw himself into a bush.
Behind them the forest swarmed with black mastiffs,
ravenous and swift as greyhounds
just released from their chains.
They set their teeth in the one who had crouched down
and tore him apart piece by piece,
then carried off those suffering limbs.
My guide took me by the hand
and led me to the bush that wept in vain
through its bloody wounds.
"O Jacopo of Sant'Andrea," it said,
"what good did it do you to make me your shield?
What blame do I bear for your wicked life?"
When my master stopped beside it, he said:
"Who were you, that through so many wounds
breathe out your sorrowful words with blood?"
And it said to us: "O souls who have come
to witness the shameful destruction
that has torn my leaves from me,
gather them beneath this wretched bush.
I was from that city which changed
its first patron to the Baptist,
for which he will forever afflict it with his art.
And if some trace of him did not remain
at the crossing of the Arno,
those citizens who rebuilt it
on the ashes Attila left behind
would have labored in vain.
I made a gallows of my own house."