So I descended from the first circle
down to the second, which wraps around
a smaller space but holds much greater pain—
pain that drives souls to wail and cry out.
There stands Minos, terrible and snarling,
examining each transgression at the entrance.
He judges and dispatches souls according to how he wraps himself—
his tail coiling around his body once for each circle
he wills the spirit to descend.
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MINOS
“pain that drives souls to wail and cry out. / There stands Minos, terrible and snarling, / examining each transgression at the entrance.”
Always a crowd waits before him.
They approach his judgment one by one,
confess their sins, hear their sentence,
then are hurled downward into darkness.
"You who enter this house of suffering,"
Minos said when he saw me,
pausing his great work of condemnation,
"watch how you enter and whom you trust.
Don't let the wide gate deceive you."
My guide answered: "Why do you cry out?
Don't obstruct his fated journey.
This is willed where power exists
to accomplish what is willed. Ask nothing more."
Now the sounds of anguish begin
to reach my ears. I have arrived
where endless lamentation strikes me.
I entered a place stripped of all light
that roars like a storm-tossed sea
when opposing winds battle above it.
The hellish hurricane that never stops
sweeps spirits onward in its violence,
whirling and battering them without mercy.
When they're hurled before the ruined cliff
there are shrieks, complaints, and wailing.
There they curse the divine power.
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THE LUSTFUL
“whirling and battering them without mercy. / When they're hurled before the ruined cliff”
I understood that souls condemned to this torment
were those who made reason slave to desire,
who surrendered mind to flesh.
Like starlings carried on their wings
in the cold season, in vast, dense flocks,
so that wind drives the evil spirits—
here, there, down, up it carries them.
No hope ever comforts them,
not for rest, not even for lesser pain.
And like cranes that form a long line
across the sky, singing their harsh song,
so I saw coming, uttering lamentations,
shadows borne along by that relentless storm.
"Master," I said, "who are these people
that the black air punishes so?"
"The first of those you want to know about,"
he said, "ruled an empire of many tongues.
She was so given over to sensual vice
that she made lust legal by decree
to cover her own shame.
This is Semiramis, who succeeded Ninus as his wife
and ruled the land the Sultan now controls.
Next is she who killed herself for love
and betrayed her vow to Sichaeus's ashes—
voluptuous Cleopatra comes after."
I saw Helen, for whom so many ruthless years turned,
and great Achilles, who fought with Love at the end.
I saw Paris, Tristan, and more than a thousand shades
he named and pointed to with his finger—
souls whom Love had torn from life.
After hearing my teacher name
those ancient ladies and knights,
pity overwhelmed me and I nearly fainted.
I began: "Poet, I would gladly speak
to those two who move together
and seem so light upon the wind."
He said: "Watch when they drift nearer,
then call to them by the love that leads them,
and they will come."
As soon as the wind swept them toward us
I raised my voice: "Tormented souls,
come speak with us, if nothing forbids it."
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PAOLO AND FRANCESCA
“and they will come." / As soon as the wind swept them toward us / I raised my voice: "Tormented souls,”
Like doves called by desire
flying with steady, open wings
toward their sweet nest through willing air,
so they came from Dido's company,
approaching through the malignant atmosphere—
so strong was my compassionate call.
"Living soul, gracious and kind,
who travels through this purple air
to visit us who stained the world blood-red:
if the King of the universe were our friend
we would pray to him for your peace,
since you take pity on our twisted suffering.
Whatever you wish to hear and speak,
we will hear and speak with you
while the wind stays silent as it is now.
The city where I was born
sits by the seashore where the Po descends
to find peace with all its tributaries.
Love, which quickly seizes any gentle heart,
took this man with passion for the beautiful body
that was torn from me—the manner still wounds me.
Love, which allows no beloved not to love in return,
gripped me with such delight in him
that, as you see, it never leaves me still.
Love led us both to the same death.
Caina awaits the one who killed us."
These words drifted to us from them.
When I heard those tormented souls
I bowed my head and held it down so long
the poet asked: "What are you thinking?"
When I answered, I began: "Alas,
how many sweet thoughts, how much longing
brought them to this grievous end."
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PAOLO AND FRANCESCA
“the poet asked: "What are you thinking?" / When I answered, I began: "Alas,”
Then I turned back to them and spoke:
"Francesca, your suffering
makes me weep with sadness and compassion.
But tell me: in the time of sweet sighs,
how did Love reveal to you
your dangerous desires?"
She answered: "There is no greater sorrow
than remembering happiness
in times of misery—your teacher knows this well.
But if you have such desire to know
the first root of our love,
I will tell it like one who weeps while speaking.
One day, for pleasure, we were reading
about Lancelot and how Love conquered him.
We were alone and suspected nothing.
Many times that reading made our eyes meet
and drained the color from our faces,
but one moment alone defeated us:
When we read how that longed-for smile
was kissed by such a perfect lover,
this one, who will never be parted from me,
kissed my trembling mouth.
The book was our Galeotto, and so was he who wrote it.
That day we read no further."
While one spirit spoke these words
the other wept so hard that out of pity
I fainted as if dying,
and fell like a dead body falls.