Purgatorio
Further Ascent. Nature of the Mountain. The Negligent, who postponed Repentance till the last Hour. Belacqua.
When either pleasure or pain
grabs hold of one of our faculties,
the soul gathers itself completely around that sensation,
seeming to ignore all other powers within us.
This disproves the mistaken belief
One soul ignites another within us.
And so, whenever we hear or see something
that holds our soul in rapt attention,
time slips away unnoticed,
because one faculty listens
while another keeps the soul complete—
one bound, the other free.
I experienced this truth firsthand
as I listened and gazed at that spirit.
The sun had climbed fifty full degrees
without my knowing, when we reached
the place where those souls cried out
in unison: "Here is what you seek."
A farmer plugs a greater gap in his hedge
with just a small forkful of thorns
when grapes are turning brown
than the narrow passage we found—
one through which only my guide ascended
with me following behind,
after that company left us.
You can climb to San Leo, descend to Noli,
scale the peak of Bismantova
with feet alone—but here you must fly
on swift wings, with feathers
of great desire, following him
who gave me hope and became my light.
We climbed through fractured rock,
borders pressing in on both sides,
the ground beneath demanding
both hands and feet.
When we reached the upper rim
of that high bank, out on the open slope,
I said, "Master, which way do we go?"
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THE ASCENT
“who gave me hope and became my light. / We climbed through fractured rock,”
"Don't let your steps descend," he answered.
"Keep climbing the mountain behind me
until some wise guide appears."
The summit towered beyond sight,
the hillside steeper by far
than a line from center to edge of a circle.
Exhausted, I began: "Sweet father,
turn and see how I'm left alone
unless you wait for me!"
"Son," he said, "drag yourself up there,"
pointing to a terrace slightly higher
that circles the entire hill on that side.
His words spurred me on.
I strained every muscle, scrambling up behind him
until that ledge lay beneath my feet.
There we both sat down,
turned eastward toward our ascent,
for everyone delights in looking back.
I first directed my eyes to the low shores,
then lifted them to the sun, amazed
that it struck us from the left.
The poet saw I was completely bewildered
by the chariot of light
entering between us and the north wind.
"If Castor and Pollux traveled
with that mirror up there
that conducts its light up and down,
you would see the jagged wheel of the zodiac
revolving even closer to the Bears,
unless it strayed from its ancient path.
To understand how this can be,
imagine Zion and this mountain
standing together on earth
so they share one horizon
but different hemispheres.
Then you'll see how the road
that Phaeton tragically failed to drive
must necessarily pass
on one side when the other passes opposite,
if your mind grasps this clearly."
"Master," I said, "I've never seen
as clearly as I now understand
what once seemed beyond my wit:
that the middle circle of celestial motion—
called the Equator in astronomy,
which always lies between sun and winter—
departs from here toward the north
for the reason you explain,
while the Hebrews saw it
toward the region of heat.
But if you're willing, I'd like to know
how far we have to go,
for this hill rises higher
than my eyes can reach."
"This mountain is such," he said,
"that it's always difficult at the beginning,
down below, but the higher you climb,
the less it hurts. When it becomes
so pleasant that going up feels
as easy as floating downstream in a boat,
then you'll reach the end of this path.
There expect to rest your labored breathing.
I answer no more than this,
and I know it to be true."
As he finished speaking,
a voice nearby called out:
"Perhaps you'll need to sit down before then!"
At that sound we both turned
and saw on our left a great boulder
that neither of us had noticed before.
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THE LATE REPENTERS
“As he finished speaking, / a voice nearby called out: / "Perhaps you'll need to sit down before then!"”
We went there and found people
standing in the shadow behind the rock,
as one stands in idleness.
One of them, who seemed weary to me,
sat with both knees drawn up,
his face bowed low between them.
"Sweet lord," I said, "look at him—
he appears more negligent
than if Sloth herself were his sister."
Then he turned toward us and paid attention,
barely lifting his gaze above his thigh:
"Go on up then, since you're so eager."
Then I knew who he was. The breathlessness
that still quickened my breathing a little
didn't stop me from going to him.
After I reached him, he barely raised his head,
saying: "Have you clearly seen
how the sun drives his chariot
over your left shoulder?"
His lazy posture and brief words
brought a smile to my lips.
"Belacqua," I began, "I no longer
grieve for you, but tell me—
why do you sit here?
Are you waiting for an escort,
or has your old habit overtaken you?"
"Brother, what's the point of climbing?
God's angel sitting at the gate
wouldn't let me pass to my torment.
Heaven must first revolve around me
outside there for as long
as it did during my life,
because I postponed good intentions
until the end—unless some prayer
brings me aid, rising from a heart
that lives in grace.
What good are others
that heaven doesn't hear?"
Meanwhile the poet climbed ahead of me,
saying: "Come now. See how the sun
has touched the meridian,
and night already covers Morocco
with her foot from the western shore."