Purgatorio
Marco Lombardo. Lament over the State of the World. Darkness of hell, and of a night deprived Of every planet under a poor sky,
Darkness of hell, and of a night stripped
of every planet beneath a starless sky,
The thickest cloud-darkened sky
never cast so dense a veil across my sight
as that smoke which wrapped around us there,
nor felt so coarse against the skin—
it wouldn't let an eye stay open.
My faithful, wise escort drew close
and offered me his shoulder.
Like a blind man following his guide
to avoid wandering astray
or striking something that might harm or kill him,
so I walked through that bitter, foul air,
listening to my Leader, who said only:
"Make sure you don't get separated from me."
I heard voices, and each one seemed
to beg for peace and mercy from
the Lamb of God who takes away our sins.
Their opening was always "Agnus Dei"—
one word shared by all, one rhythm,
so perfect harmony rang among them.
"Master," I said, "are those spirits I hear?"
And he replied: "You understand correctly.
They're untying the knot of anger."
"Who are you that cuts through our smoke
and speaks of us as though
you still measure time by calendars?"
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MARCO THE LOMBARD
“"Who are you that cuts through our smoke / and speaks of us as though / you still measure time by calendars?"”
So spoke a voice.
My Master said: "Answer him,
and ask if the way leads upward on this side."
"O creature cleansing yourself
to return beautiful to your Maker,
you'll hear wonders if you follow me."
"I'll follow as far as I'm allowed,"
he answered. "If smoke blocks our sight,
hearing will keep us joined instead."
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MARCO THE LOMBARD
“"I'll follow as far as I'm allowed," / he answered. "If smoke blocks our sight, / hearing will keep us joined instead."”
Then I began: "Wrapped in that binding
which death unwinds, I'm climbing upward.
I came here through hell's torment.
Since God has embraced me in his grace
and wills that I should see his court
by a method completely unprecedented,
don't hide from me who you were before death—
tell me, and tell me if I'm heading right
for the passage. Let your words guide us."
"I was a Lombard, called Marco.
I knew the world and loved that virtue
at which everyone has now unstrung their bow.
You're going the right way upward."
So he answered, and added: "I beg you
to pray for me when you reach heaven."
"I pledge my faith to you," I said,
"to do what you ask. But I'm bursting
with doubt unless I can resolve it.
First it was simple, now it's doubled
by your words, which confirm for me
here and elsewhere what I connect with them.
The world is utterly abandoned
by every virtue, as you tell me,
pregnant and covered with wickedness.
But I beg you to show me the cause
so I can see it and reveal it to others—
for one blames the heavens, another blames us here below."
He let out a deep sigh
that grief forced into "Ah!"
then began: "Brother, the world is blind,
and you truly come from it!
You living souls refer every cause
upward to the heavens, as if they
moved all things by necessity.
If that were so, free will in you
would be destroyed, and there'd be no justice
in joy for good or sorrow for evil.
The heavens set your impulses in motion—
not all of them, but suppose I grant that—
light has been given you to know good and evil,
and free will, which may suffer fatigue
in its first battles with the heavens
but then conquers all if properly nurtured.
Free though you are, you're subject
to a greater force and better nature,
and that creates the mind in you—
the heavens have no charge over it.
So if the present world goes astray,
the cause lies in you, seek it in yourselves,
and I'll be your true guide in this.
From the hand of Him who cherishes it
before it exists, like a little girl
weeping and laughing in childish play,
comes forth the simple soul that knows nothing
except that, proceeding from a joyful Maker,
it turns gladly toward whatever gives it pleasure.
First it tastes trivial pleasures,
is deceived by them, and runs after them
if no guide or rein redirects its love.
Therefore laws were needed as a rein,
a king was needed who could at least
discern the tower of the true city.
Laws exist, but who enforces them?
No one—because the shepherd who leads
can chew the cud but doesn't split the hoof.
So the people, seeing their guide
strike only at the good he craves,
feed on that and seek nothing higher.
You can clearly see that bad leadership
is what has corrupted the world,
not that your nature is depraved.
Rome, which reformed the world,
was accustomed to have two suns
that lit both roads—
of God and of the world.
One has extinguished the other;
the sword is joined to the shepherd's staff,
and it's wrong for them to go together
by force, because when joined,
neither fears the other.
If you don't believe me, consider the wheat—
each plant is known by its seed.
In the land watered by Po and Adige,
valor and courtesy used to flourish
before Frederick's conflict.
Now anyone can safely travel there
who has the shame to avoid
speaking with good people or drawing near them.
True, three old men remain
in whom the ancient age rebukes the new,
and they think it late that God
restore them to the better life:
Currado da Palazzo, good Gherardo,
and Guido da Castel, who's better named
in the French style, the honest Lombard.
Say from now on that Rome's Church,
confusing two governments in itself,
falls in the mud and soils both itself and its burden."
"My dear Marco," I said, "you reason well,
and now I understand why Levi's sons
were excluded from inheritance.
But what Gherardo is this who you say
remains as an example of the lost race,
reproaching this barbarous age?"
"Either your speech deceives me or tests me,"
he answered, "for speaking Tuscan to me,
it seems you know nothing of good Gherardo.
I know him by no other name
unless I take it from his daughter Gaia.
God be with you—I can go no farther.
Look, the dawn already rays through the smoke,
growing white. I must leave—
the Angel is there—before he appears."
So he spoke, and would hear no more.