If you have ever been caught in Alpine mist
so thick you could see no better
than a mole sees through its own skin—
then you know how, when the heavy vapors
begin to thin and scatter,
the sun's sphere pushes weakly through,
pale and struggling.
Your imagination will quickly grasp
how I saw the sun again,
already setting as it was.
10
Matching my steps to my Master's faithful footsteps,
I emerged from that cloud
into rays already dying on the distant shores.
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O Imagination, you who steal us so completely
from the outer world that we perceive nothing—
not even if a thousand trumpets blared around us—
what moves you when the senses give you nothing?
A light moves you, taking form in heaven
by itself, or by some will that guides it downward.
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In my mind appeared the trace
of her wickedness—she who transformed herself
into the bird that most loves to sing.
My consciousness withdrew so deeply
into itself that nothing from outside
could enter or be received.
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Then in my soaring fantasy there reigned
one crucified, scornful and fierce
in his expression, dying just as he had lived.
Around him stood great Ahasuerus,
Esther his wife, and righteous Mordecai,
who was so complete in word and deed.
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As this vision burst apart
of its own accord, like a bubble
when the water that formed it fails,
there rose in my sight a young woman
weeping bitterly, crying: "O queen,
why did you choose in anger to become nothing?
You killed yourself so as not to lose Lavinia—
now you have lost me! I am the one who grieves,
mother, for your ruin before any other's."
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As sleep breaks when sudden
new light strikes closed eyelids,
shattering and quivering before it dies completely,
so this vision of mine collapsed
the moment radiance struck my face—
far brighter than anything we know.
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I turned to see where I was
when a voice said, "Here is the way up,"
pulling me from every other thought
and filling my desire with such eagerness
to see who was speaking
that it could never rest until we met face to face.
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But as before the sun, which overwhelms sight
and veils its own shape in excess of light,
my power proved insufficient here.
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"This is a divine spirit who directs us
on the upward path without being asked,
concealing himself in his own light.
He treats us as we should treat ourselves—
whoever sees need and waits to be asked
already leans maliciously toward refusal.
Let us match our steps to his invitation.
We must hurry to climb before dark falls,
for then we could not continue until day returns."
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So spoke my guide, and together
we turned our steps toward a stairway.
As soon as I reached the first step
I felt near me the motion of wings
fanning my face, and heard the words:
"Blessed are the peacemakers,
who are without sinful anger."
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Already above us the last sunbeams
that night pursues had risen so high
that stars appeared on every side.
"O my strength, why do you abandon me so?"
I said to myself, feeling
the vigor drain from my legs.
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We had reached the point where the stairway
climbs no higher, and stood motionless
like a ship that has reached shore.
I listened carefully to hear
if anything stirred in this new circle,
then turned to my Master and said:
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"Tell me, dear Father, what fault
is purged here in this circle where we stand?
Though our feet must pause, don't let your words pause."
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And he replied: "Love of good grown slack
in what it should have done is here restored—
here the ill-timed oar is plied again.
But to understand more clearly,
turn your mind to me, and you will gather
some useful fruit from our delay.
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Neither Creator nor creature, son,
was ever without love—
natural or rational—and you know this.
Natural love is never wrong,
but the other kind may err through evil object,
or through too much or too little force.
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While it aims at the primary good
and keeps proper measure with secondary goods,
it cannot be the cause of sinful pleasure.
But when it turns toward evil,
or pursues good with more or less
care than it should, creation works against Creator.
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From this you can understand that love must be
the seed of every virtue within you,
and of every act deserving punishment.
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Now, since love can never turn its gaze
away from its subject's welfare,
all things are safe from self-hatred.
And since we cannot conceive any being
existing alone, cut off from the First,
all desire to hate Him is impossible.
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Therefore, if I judge correctly,
the evil one loves must be one's neighbor's evil,
and this is born in three ways in your mortal clay:
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Some hope to excel through their neighbor's downfall
and long only for his greatness to be cast down.
Some fear they will lose power, grace, honor, and fame
if another rises, and become so troubled
they love the opposite.
And some feel so chafed by injury
it makes them hunger for revenge—
these must devise another's harm.
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This threefold love is wept for down below.
Now I want you to understand the other kind
that pursues good with faulty measure.
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Everyone dimly conceives some good
in which the mind might rest, and yearns for it—
therefore everyone strives to reach it.
If sluggish love draws you to see this good,
or to attain it, this terrace punishes you
after proper repentance.
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There exists another good that brings no happiness—
it is not true joy, not the good essence
that is root and fruit of every good.
Love that surrenders too much to this
is lamented in the three circles above us.
But how it divides into three parts
I will not say—seek that knowledge yourself."
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