Purgatorio
The Celestial Pilot. Casella. The Departure. Already had the sun the horizon reached Whose circle of meridian covers
The sun had already reached the horizon
whose meridian circle covers
Jerusalem with its highest point,
and night, which circles opposite to the sun,
was rising from the Ganges
with the scales that fall from her hands
when she grows longer than the day—
so that where I stood,
the white and red cheeks
of beautiful Aurora
were turning orange
as she grew older.
We were still beside the sea,
like people thinking about their journey,
who go forward in their hearts
but stay behind in body.
Dawn was breaking over Jerusalem's highest peak,
while on the opposite side of the earth,
night emerged from the Ganges bearing the Scales
that slip from her hands when she grows too heavy with darkness.
Here where I stood, beautiful Aurora's white and crimson cheeks
were deepening to orange with the advancing day.
We lingered still at the ocean's edge
like travelers lost in thought about their journey—
hearts ready to move forward, bodies rooted in place.
Then suddenly—as Mars burns fiery red
through morning's thick vapors,
low in the western sky above the sea—
I saw a light racing across the water,
moving faster than any bird could fly.
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THE VESSEL
“through morning's thick vapors, / low in the western sky above the sea— / I saw a light racing across the water,”
May I see it again!
I turned away briefly to question my guide,
but when I looked back, the light had grown
brighter and larger. White shapes appeared
on either side of it, and slowly
another whiteness emerged beneath.
My master said nothing
until that first whiteness unfolded into wings.
Then, recognizing the pilot, he cried out:
"Quickly! Fall to your knees!
Look—it's an angel of God! Fold your hands in prayer!
From now on, you'll see such divine officers!
See how he scorns all human tools—
no oars, no sails except his own wings
to cross such vast distances.
Look how he holds them pointed toward heaven,
beating the air with eternal feathers
that never molt like mortal plumage."
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THE CELESTIAL PILOT
“no oars, no sails except his own wings”
As the divine bird drew closer,
he blazed more radiant,
until my eyes couldn't bear the sight
and I had to look down.
He reached the shore in a swift, light vessel
that barely disturbed the water.
The celestial pilot stood at the stern,
blessedness written across his face,
while more than a hundred souls sat within.
"When Israel went out of Egypt!"
they sang together with one voice,
continuing with all the verses that follow in that psalm.
The angel made the sign of the holy cross over them,
and they all threw themselves upon the shore.
He departed as swiftly as he had come.
The crowd left behind seemed bewildered,
gazing around at this unfamiliar place
like newcomers testing unknown ground.
Daylight was breaking on all sides—
the sun's brilliant rays had driven
Capricorn from the center of the sky.
The new arrivals turned toward us:
"If you know the way, show us
the path up to the mountain."
Virgil answered: "You think perhaps
we're familiar with this place,
but we're strangers just like you.
We arrived only moments before you,
by another route so rough and steep
that climbing will seem like play from now on."
When the souls saw me breathing,
realizing I was still alive,
they turned pale with amazement.
Like people crowding around a messenger
who carries an olive branch,
eager for news and unafraid of the crush,
so all those blessed spirits stood motionless,
as if forgetting they should go
and make themselves beautiful.
I saw one step forward
with such loving intention to embrace me
that I was moved to do the same.
O empty shadows, real only in appearance!
Three times I tried to clasp him in my arms,
three times my hands returned empty to my chest.
Wonder must have shown on my face,
because the shade smiled and stepped back.
I pressed forward, following.
Gently he said I should stop,
and then I knew who he was.
I begged him to stay and speak with me.
"Just as I loved you in mortal flesh,
I love you now that I am free," he replied.
"That's why I stop. But tell me—why are you here?"
"My dear Casella! I make this journey
to return once more to where I am.
But why has so much time been taken from you?"
"No wrong has been done to me," he said.
"The one who takes whoever he pleases, whenever he chooses,
has denied me this passage many times—
his will is made from perfect justice.
But truly, for the past three months
he's welcomed in peace all who wished to enter.
So I, who had turned toward that shore
where the Tiber's waters grow salty,
was kindly received by him.
His wing now points toward that river mouth,
because there forever gather
all those who don't descend to Acheron."
"If no new law strips from you
the memory or skill of love songs
that used to quiet all my longings,
please comfort my soul with one—
this journey in the flesh
has left me so distressed."
"Love that speaks to me within my mind,"
he began, so melodiously
the music still echoes inside me.
My master and I, and all the people with him,
seemed as satisfied as if nothing else
could touch anyone's thoughts.
We all stood motionless and attentive to his song.
But then—the stern old man shouted:
"What is this, you sluggish spirits?
What negligence! What delay!
Run to the mountain and strip away
the slough that prevents God
from revealing himself to you!"
Like doves gathered peacefully at their feeding,
showing none of their usual pride,
who suddenly abandon their food
when something frightening appears—
struck by a greater concern—
so that new company abandoned the song
and rushed toward the slope
like people going they know not where.
Our own departure was no less hurried.