Thursday, October 13, 2011


Let us descend now unto greater woe;
Already sinks each star that was ascending
When I set out, and loitering is forbidden

We crossed the circle to the other bank,
Near to a found that boils and pours intself
Along a gully that runs out of it

A marsh it makes, which has the name of Styx
This tristful brooklet, when it has descended
Down to the foot of the malign grey shores.

And I, who stood intent upon beholding,
Saw people mudbesprent in that lagoon,
All of them naked and with angry look

They smote each other not alone with hands,
But with the head and with the breast and feet,
Tearing each other piecemeal with their teeth.

Said the good Master: Son, thou now beholdest
The souls of those whom anger overcame;
And likewise I would nave thee know for certain

Beneath the water people are who sigh
And make this water bubble at the surface
As the eye tells thee wheresoe'er it turns.

Fixed in the mire they say, 'We sullen were
In the sweet air, which by the sun is gladdened,
Bearing within ourselves the sluggish reek;

Now we are sullen in this sable mire.'
This hymn do they keep gurgling in their throats
For with unbroken words they cannot say it.

1 comment:

  1. So you stuck me at the bottom of the River Styx. How fitting.