When the dice game breaks up,
the loser stays behind, dejected,
rolling the dice again and again,
3
I was like a man leaving a crowded gathering—
one person approaches from the front, another tugs at him from behind,
someone else calls out from the side to be remembered.
He doesn't stop, listening to this one and that one,
no longer mobbed once he extends his hand in acknowledgment,
defending himself from the pressing throng.
9
That's how I moved through that dense multitude,
turning my face this way and that toward them,
making promises until I freed myself from their midst.
12
There was the man from Arezzo, killed by the savage hands
of Ghin di Tacco, and another who drowned
while fleeing in pursuit of vengeance.
Frederick Novello stretched out his hands in supplication,
and there was that Pisan whose death
made good Marzucco appear so strong in his forgiveness.
18
I saw Count Orso, and a soul torn from its body—
as it declared—not by any crime committed,
but by hatred and envy: Pierre de la Brosse.
Let the Lady of Brabant take warning while still on earth,
so she won't join an even worse flock when she dies.
23
Once I had broken free from all those shades
who only prayed that others might pray for them,
hoping to speed their path to sanctity,
I began: "My guiding light, it seems you deny explicitly
in one of your texts that prayer can bend Heaven's decree.
Yet these people pray for exactly that.
Is their hope then meaningless?
Or am I misunderstanding what you wrote?"
31
He answered: "My writing is clear,
and their hope isn't false
if you consider it with sound reasoning.
Divine judgment doesn't lower itself,
because love's fire instantly fulfills
what the one dwelling here must satisfy.
37
Where I made that statement you mention,
prayer couldn't remedy the defect
because the prayer was cut off from God.
But don't try to resolve such deep questions
unless she tells you—the one who will be
the light between truth and understanding.
I don't know if you grasp this; I speak of Beatrice.
You'll see her above, smiling and blessed,
at the summit of this mountain."
46
"Good leader," I said, "let's move faster.
I'm not as tired as I was before,
and look—the mountain is already casting shadows."
49
"We'll go forward with what daylight remains,"
he replied, "as far as we possibly can.
But the situation isn't what you think.
Before you reach the top, you'll see him return—
the one now hiding behind the hill,
so you're not interrupting his rays.
55
But look there! A soul stationed
completely alone, watching us.
It will show us the quickest route."
58
We approached it. O Lombard soul,
how proud and disdainful you held yourself,
noble and slow in the movement of your eyes!
It said nothing to us at all,
but let us pass while studying us
like a lion lying in wait.
64
Virgil drew near anyway, asking
that it point out the best way up.
It didn't answer his request,
but questioned us about our homeland and our lives.
My sweet guide began: "Mantua—"
and the shade, absorbed in itself until then,
rose toward him from where it had been sitting,
saying: "O Mantuan, I am Sordello
from your own land!" And they embraced each other.
73
Ah, enslaved Italy! Inn of sorrow!
Ship without a pilot in the great storm!
No lady of provinces, but a brothel!
That noble soul was so eager,
just at the sweet sound of his native city,
to welcome his fellow citizen there.
And now your living inhabitants are never without war,
and those enclosed by the same walls and moats
devour each other!
82
Search around all your coastlines, wretched country,
then look within your heart—
does any part of you enjoy peace?
What good did it do that Justinian
mended the bridle for you, if the saddle sits empty?
Without that, the shame would be less.
88
Ah, people who should be devout
and let Caesar sit in the saddle,
if you truly hear what God teaches you!
Look how wild this beast has become,
no longer corrected by spurs,
since you seized hold of the reins.
94
O German Albert! You abandon her
when she's grown rebellious and savage,
when you should be astride her saddle.
May just judgment fall from the stars
upon your bloodline—may it be swift and visible,
so your successor will fear it!
Because you and your father, distracted
by greed for those lands beyond the Alps,
have let the garden of the empire go to waste.
103
Come and see the Montagues and Capulets,
the Monaldi and Filippeschi, careless man!
Some already grief-stricken, others trembling with fear.
Come, cruel one, and witness the oppression
of your nobles—heal their wounds,
and you'll see how secure Santafiore really is!
109
Come and see your Rome weeping,
widowed and alone, crying day and night:
"My Caesar, why have you abandoned me?"
Come and see how the people love each other!
And if no pity for us moves you,
come and feel shame for your reputation!
115
And if it's permitted, O Supreme Jupiter,
who were crucified on earth for us—
have your just eyes turned elsewhere?
Or are you preparing something in the depths
of your own counsel, some good
completely hidden from our understanding?
121
All the towns of Italy are full of tyrants,
and every country bumpkin who plays politics
becomes a Marcellus!
124
My Florence! You can be satisfied
with this digression that doesn't concern you,
thanks to your people's such foresight!
Many carry justice in their hearts but shoot slowly,
careful not to let arrows fly from the bow unadvised—
but your people have it right on their lips!
Many refuse to bear public responsibility,
but your solicitous citizens answer
before being asked, crying: "I'll take it on!"
133
Now rejoice, for you have good reason:
you're wealthy, you're at peace, you're wise!
If I speak the truth, events don't hide it.
Athens and Sparta, who created
the ancient laws and were so civilized,
made only faint gestures toward living well
compared to you, who spin such intricate
provisions that what you weave in October
doesn't last until mid-November.
142
How often, within living memory,
have you changed your laws, currency, offices, and customs,
and renewed your very limbs?
If you remember clearly and see the light,
you'll recognize yourself as a sick woman
who can't find rest on her soft bed,
but tosses and turns to ward off pain.
149