FROM THE LAST CANTO OF PARADISE

(Paradiso XXXIII: 46–48, 52–66)

As I drew nearer to the end of all desire,

I brought my longing’s ardor to a final height,

Just as I ought. My vision, becoming pure,

Entered more and more the beam of that high light

That shines on its own truth. From then, my seeing

Became too large for speech, which fails at a sight

Beyond all boundaries, at memory’s undoing—

As when the dreamer sees and after the dream

The passion endures, imprinted on his being

Though he can’t recall the rest. I am the same:

Inside my heart, although my vision is almost

Entirely faded, droplets of its sweetness come

The way the sun dissolves the snow’s crust—

The way, in the wind that stirred the light leaves,

The oracle that the Sibyl wrote was lost.