Canto Tertio

Dante Alighieri

Per me si va nella citta dolente

Per me si va nelletherno dolore

Per me si va tra laperduta gente

Iustitia mosse el mio alto factore

Fecemi la divina potestate

La somma sapientia el primo amore

Dinanzi a me nonfur chose create

Se non etherne et io etherno duro

Lasciate ogni speranza voi chentrate

Queste parole di colore obscuro

Vidio scripte al sommo duna porta

Perchio maestro el senso lor me duro.

Et quegli a me chome persona accorta

Qui si convien lasciare ogni sospecto

Ogni vilta convien che qui sia morta

Non sian venuti alloco ovio tho decto

Che tu vedrai legenti dolorose

Channo perduto el ben dellontellecto

Et poi che lasua mano alla mia pose

Con lieto volto ondio mi confortai

Mi misse drento alle secrete chose.

Quivi sospir con pianti et alti guai

Risonavan per laer sanza stelle

Perchio al cominciar ne lagrimai

Diverse lingue. Horribili favelle.

Parole di dolor. Accenti dira.

Voci alte et fioche et suon di man conelle

Facevanun tumulto elqual saggira

Sempre in quellaria sanza tempo tinta

Chome lharena quando al turbo spira.

Et io chavea derrore la testa cinta

Dixi maestro che e/quel chiodo:

Et che gente e che par nelduol si vinta:

Et egli a me questo misero modo

Tengon lanime triste di coloro

Che vissor sanza fama et sanza lodo.

Mischiate sono aquel captivo choro

De glangeli/che non futon ribelli :

Ne fur fedeli adio: ma per se foro.

Cacciongl ecieli per non per non esser ben belli:

ne lo profondo inferno gli riceve

Chalchuna gloria erei harebbon delli.

Et io maestro che e tanto greve

Allor che lamentar gli fa si forte

Rispose dicerolti molto breve

Questi non hanno speranza di morte :

Et la lor cieca vita e/tantobassa

Che invidiosi son dognaltra sorte.

Fama di loro el mondo esser non lassa

Misericordia: et giustitia glisdegna :

Non ragionar dilor: ma guarda et passa

Et io che riguardai vidi una insegna

Che girando correva tanto rapta

Che dogni posa mi parea indegna :

Et drieto gli venia si lunga tracta

Di gente chio non harei mai creduto

Che morte tanta nhavessi disfacta

Poscia chio vhebbi alchuno riconosciuto

Vidi et conobbi lombra di colui

Che fece per vilta lo gran rifiuto

Incontinente intese et certo fui

Che questera la secta de captivi

A dio spiacenti et animici suoi:

Questi sciagurati che mai non fur vivi /

Erono ignudi et stimolati molto

Da mosconi et da vespe cheron ivi.

Elli rigavon lor di sangue el volto

Che mischiato di lachrime alor piedi

Da fastidiosi vermi era ricolto.

Poscia chariguardare oltre mi diedi

Vidi gentalla riva dun gran fiume

Perchio maestro dixi hor mi concedi

Chio sappi quali sono et qual costume :

Le fa di trapassar parer si prompte :

Chomio discerno per lo fiocho lume.

Et egli a me le chose ti fien conte :

Quando noi fermeren li nostri passi

Sulla trista riviera dacheronte.

Allhor chon gliocchi vergognosi et bassi

Temendo nel mio dir gli fussi grave /

Infino al fiume del parlar mi trassi.

Et ecco verso noi venir per nave

Un vecchio bianco per antico pelo

Gridando quai avoi anime prave :

Non isperate mai veder lo cielo

Io vengo per menarui allaltra riva

Nelle tenebre etherne in caldo engielo :

Et tu che se chosti anima viva?

Partiti da chotesti che son morti

Ma paiche vide chio non mi partiva :

Dixe per altre vie per altre porti

Verrai a piaggia non qui per passare

Piu lieve legno convien che ti porti.

El ducha alui Charon non ti crucciare :

Vuolsi chosi chola dove si puote

Cio che si vuole: et piu non domandare

Quinci fur chete le lanose gote

Al nocchier della livida palude

Chentorno agliocchi havea difiamme rote

Ma quellanime cheron lasse et nude

Changiar cholera et dibattero edenti

Tosto chenteson le parole crude

Bestemiavono dio elor parenti

Lhumanaspetie elluogo eltempo elseme

Di lor semenza de di lor nascimenti.

Poi si ritrasser tutte quante inseime

Forte piangendo alla riva malvagia /

Chattende ciascunhuom che dio non teme

Charon dimonio chon occhi di bragia

Loro accennanado tutti gli raccoglie

Batte chol remo qualunghe sadagia.

Chome dauctuno si lievon le foglie

Lu na appresso dellaltra infin chel ramo

Vede alla terra tutte le sue spoglie

Similemente el mal seme dadamo

Gittasi di quel lito aduna aduna

Percenni chrome augel per suo richiamo

Chosi senvanno su per londa bruna

Et avanti che sieno di la discese

Anche di qua nuova schiera saduna.

Figliuol mio dixe el maestro cortese

Quegli che muoion nellira di dio

Tutti convengon que dogni paese

Et prompti sono a trapassar lo rio

Che la divina giustitia gli sprona

Si che la tema si volve in disio :

Quici nonpasso mai anima buona

Et pero se Charone di te si lagna :

Ben puo sapere omai chel suo dir suona

Finito questo labuia campagna

Tremo si forte che dello spavento

La mente di sudore anchor mibagna :

La terra lachrimosa diede vento

Che baleno una luce vermiglia :

Laqual mi vinse ciaschun sentimento :

Et caddi chome lhuom chi sonno piglia.

Canto III

translated by Clare Harmon

THROUGH ME,

GO TO

SORROW’S

CITY;

THROUGH ME,

GO TO

PAIN

ETERNAL;

THROUGH ME,

GO TO

THE GRIEF

PEOPLE.

JUSTICE

MOVED

MY HIGHEST

AUTHOR.

DIVINE POWER,

DIVINE WISDOM,

AND THE FIRST LOVE

MADE ME.

BEFORE ME

THERE IS

NO CAUSE

OUTSIDE

THE ETERNAL

AND

ETERNALLY

I ENDURE.

ENTER AND LEAVE

YOUR HOPE

BEHIND.

Like so I saw these words

etched dark above a gate

I said: Teacher, these words

are harsh to hear and know.

And him, more keen and shrewd—

Suspicion resigns here;

every cowardice dies.

We have come to the place

I told you about—

Here you’ll see those who’ve lost

the good of intellect.

They’re the most pained people.

With gladness in his face

he put his hand in mine.        Comfort.

He put me like this

among things kept secret

from all us living.

At the gate, sighs and wails;

guttural groans sounded

in the starless air.           I wept.

Tongues horrid and foreign—

Pained words and cries of war—

Incoherent voices—

Sounds of slapping torments

all made a tumult that permeated

the dim and timeless air.        Grains of sand in the breath of a hurricane.

I spoke with my head still

and girded by horror:

Teacher, what do I hear?

Who are these, won by pain?

Him to me: This misery

is held by sad-tinted souls

who lived without note.

They are mixed in with

a choir held captive:

neutral angels who made

neither rebellion

nor kept fidelity.

They are the castoffs

of the heavens and deep Hell—

expelled from above

to protect its beauty;

rejected from below

to preserve its darkness.

And I: Teacher, what makes

their cries strike so strong?

His response: I’ll speak it

to you in brief. They have

no hope of death; their sense

is so base and so blind

that they envy

every other lot.

They are not missed.

They are disdained.

We can’t reason with them.

Look, and let’s go.

I turned. My eyes were

open and forward.

I saw a sign whipping

at such a running rate

that every pause seemed

an indignity.

Behind it came

a long parade.

I would not have believed

death unmade so many.

Some I recognized.

One I recognized.

I saw him—the shade who

made the Great Refusal.      C e l e s t i n e  V

                   True it was.

And so, I understood these

to be a gang of woe,

those displeasing to God;

those displeasing, too,

to his enemies.

Swarms of flies; stinging wasps—

all torment these scabs

who never really lived.

They are naked. They scratch

their faces. Their blood

cocktails their tears; it pools

at their feet where thrashing

thirsty worms suck upon it.

I had to look beyond

my ten. I saw others

at the shore of a river.       A c h e r o n t e

And so I said: Teacher,

now tell me, who are they?

By what law do they cross

the river like so—

How can I discern them

in l’Inferno’s lack of light?

Him to me: These things

will come to your senses

when we hold our way

on the river of grief.       A c h e r o n t e

Until we drew close to

the river we discussed      A c h e r o n t e

I lowered my eyes

in humility.

Now look, behind us,

a boat is coming,

and in it, an elder

who is screaming like so:

Woe to you, depraved souls!

You who never hope

to see heaven! I’ve come

to port you all to shore

to the eternal hold

of fire and of ice.

And you over there,

you living soul—

Depart from the dead.          I did not depart.

He saw me like so and said:

By another way

and by other ports—

You‘ll come to a beach, there

you’ll take a lighter craft.

Then, Virgil said: Charon,

don’t concern yourself—

from heaven it’s willed

like so. Do not ask for more.

And so, silence fell

to Charon’s bearded cheeks

even as the wheels of flame        His eyes, his eyes.

continued to churn.

When the words reached them    f r o m   h e a v e n   i t ’ s   w i l l e d   l i k e   s o

the naked, weary souls

lost any color and

they rattled their teeth. Why?

These ones? They blasphemed God

They blasphemed their families.

They blasphemed the human

species and the place

and the time and the seed

of their conception.

They blasphemed

its fruition in their births.

With powerful cries

they all retraced their way

to the maligned bank

that awaits each man

who has no fear of God.

Charon the demon            His eyes, his eyes

makes a signal; collects

them all inside his craft

then he beats with his oar

whichever one is slowest.          It was like this:

                    As in autumn, when the leaves fall; each one

                    following more quickly the other, until the

                    Mother branch above looks below to see the

                    ground covered by her spoils, so too the Bad

                    Seeds of Adam throw themselves to the

                    shore one by one at Charon’s signal like the

                    falcon for his recall.

So they go on

Acheronte’s dark wave,

and even before they

come to the other side,

a new swarm has grown.

My teacher said: My son,

these that die in the wrath

of God all converge here

from all parts of the earth.

They are ready to cross

the river; because

divine justice spurs them

on, their fear transforms

into desire.

Good souls never pass—

so if Charon complains

you know clearly now

just what his words mean.

Finito. The dark

countryside shook.

A gust of wind—

A vermillion light—

As it comes to mind            Yes, even now.

fear bathes me in sweat.

                    And so—

I lost my senses.

I fell as a man won by sleep.

about the authors
Dante Alighieri

Dante Alighieri

Dante Alighieri (1265-1321) was a poet and political theorist of the Italian peninsula. Dante is perhaps best known for his three-part epic, The Divine Comedy.

 

Clare Harmon

Clare Harmon

Clare Harmon is an interdisciplinary artist and literary translator completing a PhD in Comparative Literature at the University of Minnesota. Clare is a recipient of numerous fellowships and grants, including a Fulbright to pursue archival research related to their dissertation in Naples, Italy. Clare has published translations of Dante’s Inferno in Poetry Magazine, FENCE, and Poetry Northwest. Clare is currently based in Montpellier, France.