G-Blog

A modern translation in chained rhyme (“terza rima”).

This is an open project. It started in November 2024 when I saw, at a book sale, a translation of Dante Alighieri’s Divina Commedia. To my surprise, the distinctive rhyming of the original italian (ABA, BCB, CDC, …) was lost and it made me want to have a go (in my early twenties I had a love affair with this monumental poem, learning many chapters by heart).

Google Gemini tells me that the translations in Terza Rima published to-date are:

• Robert Pinsky: A version of the first book, Inferno (1994)
• Laurence Binyon: A version of the entire work (1933-1943)
• Dorothy L. Sayers: A version of the entire work (1949-1955)
• Peter Dale: A version of the entire work (1996)

I have read snippets of these monumental efforts (it is a monumental poem after all), enough to know I’d do it differently. This is the beauty of translation: every author writes anew. Whether I will stop at the first canto or keep going, time will tell.

INFERNO

Canto I

Half way inside the journey of my life,
I found myself in darkness, in a wood;
I lost my way, I braced myself for strife.

How hard to share a glimpse of where I stood,
this feral forest harsh, abrim with might,
the thought alone resets a panicked mood;

so bitter, death itself is within sight
but to recount what good in it I found,
I’ll tell of further things which came to light.

I don’t remember entering that ground
exhausted as I was around the time
the rightful path I thought no longer sound.

And when I reached the onset of a climb,
a hill that marked the limit of the vale
which truly made my heart with terror chime,

I looked above and saw its shoulders pale,
enveloped in the light of the bright star
that shines before all seekers without fail.

And then the terror quietened that quite far
had reached within the lake inside my heart
the night self-pity etched a painful scar.

Like one who, short of breath, falling apart
escaped out of the sea, back on the shore,
peers at the waves, the peril they impart,

so too my soul, still frightened to the core,
turned round to look again towards the tracks
which no person alive had left before.

Then once, my body tired, I did relax,
I carried on, the desert for terrain,
and the firm foot was always at the back.

As I was there, about to leave the plain,
a slender lynx with lightning in its feet
and spots across its fur appeared. In vain

I hoped it would stop stalking and recede;
instead it so impeded my progression
that many-a-time I backtracked to concede.

A little while had passed since dawn’s accession,
and lo, the sun was rising with the stars
together as when love divine, through motion,

accorded those things beautiful their start.
There were good reasons for my hopes to rise
about the spotted beast, at least in part

due to the time of day, the pleasant skies,
but not enough to meet without a fright
the lion that appeared before my eyes:

it seemed as if against me come it might,
its head held high, aburst with hungry rage, 
it shook the air, it seemed, such was its might;

and then a she-wolf - you could see the cage,
malnourished, of her ribs yet full of craving - 
who’d made so many men bitterly age;

she gave me grief, so much, beyond believing,
out of the fear arising from her sight,
my hope reversed: from summiting to leaving.

Like one who buys possessions with delight
until the time when everything is lost
and in his thoughts is desperate, contrite,

so did the beast, relentless, at my cost,
in striding on against me bit by bit,
repelling me towards the sun’s last post.

And while I did to lower ground submit
a personage took shape before my eyes 
who, silent for so long, appeared unfit.

The moment that I saw him in the wilds
“Take pity on me!”, I cried in his direction,
“shadow or man, whatever your disguise”

He answered me: “not man; in retrospection
a man I was from Lombardy; my parents
were both from Mantua, their mother nation.

Born late for Julius to be my acquaintance,
I lived in Rome under the good Augustus;
of false and lying gods we were then servants.

I was a poet, singing of the righteous
son of Anchyses, landed here from Troy
when Ilium proud had been reduced to ashes.

But why head back to places that annoy?
Why don’t you wander up the lovely mount
that’s origin and cause of every joy?”

“Hang on, are you that Vergil and that fount
that feeds with words a watercourse so wide? “,
I asked him in response. Ashamed, I frowned.

“O man, for other poets glory, light,
may the long hours of study, the great passion
with which I sought your volumes serve me right!

You are my master, you set me in motion,
you are the one alone from whom I took
the charming style that brought me recognition.

Hey, there’s the beast that made me falter, look!
Give sanctuary to me, o famous scholar:
my veins, my wrists by her verily shook!”

“It would be better if you ventured elsewhere,“
he answered as he saw tears down my cheek,
“to walk away alive out of this horror

because that animal that made you shriek
lets no one overtake her on her path
but hampers them so much their end is bleak;

so evil is her nature, stirred by wrath,
that her desires are never ever met; 
she eats, she’s hungrier in the aftermath;

her gang of beasts’s a rather crowded set
and many more will join, until the greyhound
shall come to make her die a painful death.

No land, no wealth will satisfy this hound
instead it will be wisdom, love and virtue
and between felts his nation shall be bound;

of humble Italy may he be rescue
for which Camilla, as a virgin, died;
Euryalus, Turnus, Nisus, wounded, too;

and he shall hunt the she-wolf far and wide
until he will have pushed her back to hell
where envy sparked her first to roam outside.

Now I suggest to you, nay, I choose well
that you shall follow, I shall be your leader
and you, through timeless shores, I will impel;

there you shall listen to the shrieks of horror,
you will catch sight of ancient souls in pain,
whose wish for second death, indeed, they holler;

and you shall see the ones whose cheer is plain
despite the flames because they may ascend,
whenever the time comes, where angels reign;

and if to reach up there do you intend,
a worthier soul should lead rather than I:
to her I will commit you at the end;

because the emperor who rules up high,
since I never abided to his law,
my bid to take you there he would deny.

His power’s universal, there’s his show
up there’s his city, there’s his mighty seat: 
the one who makes the grade will be in awe!”

Then I to him: “O poet, I’ll repeat
my wish, by the one God you never knew -
so that this curse and worse I may defeat -

for you, where you just said, to guide me through
in order that I see Saint Peter’s gate
and those so woebegone in your preview.”

At which he went, and I behind not late.

Canto II

The day was on its way, the dusky sky
was freeing all the creatures of the land
from the fatigues of work, and singly I

was making preparations to withstand
the struggles with the journey, with belief,
with my unerring mind as writing hand.
 
O muse, O mighty wit, grant me relief!
O memory, track record of experience,
here you shall prove your worth, this is your brief!

So I began: “O poet, for my guidance,
assess my virtue, whether it is potent
enough for you to trust I’ll go the distance.

You tell of Silvius’ story, that his parent,
while still in flesh and blood, immortal site
had visited, and did so fully sentient.

The fact that Evil’s enemy was quite
so kind to him, considering the effect 
of who and what would rise to such great height,

would not upset a man of intellect —
for he of sacred Rome and its empire
was in the Empyrean made father-elect;

to tell the truth, that capital, that power
became established as the holy seat
for scions of the Peter we admire.

The things he learnt, arising from the feat
you credited him for, would set in motion
his triumph and the papacy with it.

The Chosen One went to the same location
but later, to bring comfort to that creed
which is the initial step toward salvation

But I…why should I go? Who has agreed?
I’m not Aeneas, neither am I Paul:
not I, not others think I should proceed.

If I resolve to press on after all, 
the foolishness of it is surely daunting;
you are wise, I can’t decide: you make the call”.

Like one who now unwants what he’d been wanting,
where new emotions make him change his mind
so that he’s utterly deterred from starting,

I hesitated on that dark incline,
by thinking what the journey might demand
after a start so thoroughly unkind.

“If what you said is what I understand” —
magnanimous, the shadow answered back;
“inside you, fear has got the upper hand;

it’s fear that makes one feel under attack
so much as to discourage their good mission,
as when the dark fakes monsters on the track.

So that your fear may find its dissolution,
I’ll tell you why I am here, what was intended
when I first came across your tribulation.

I was among the souls that are suspended,
and then a lady called, a saint, so fair
I asked to do whatever she commanded.

Her eyes, more than the sun, lit up the air;
and she began to speak, suave and plain,
with her angelic voice, a heartfelt prayer:

“O corteous soul from Mantua, whose fame
across the earth endures still to this day,
and as the earth endures yet shall remain,

a friend of mine, not any friend I’ll say,
in desolate terrain, before the ascent,
is hindered and, in fright, he’s turned away;

I fear that he’s so lost in his intent,
that I have come to give my help too late
in light of what I heard of this event

up in the sky. Now go, your words ornate
and anything in aid of his surviving,
employ to save my sorrow and his fate.

I’m Beatrice, in my name you must be going;
I came from where I’m longing to return;
I’m here because of love, that’s why I’m speaking.

When I shall stand before my Lord, in turn,
I shall give tribute often to your name. “
She said no more; I answered in return:

“O lady, whose virtue alone supports the claim
that humans rank above all things confined 
under the sky with smaller rings, your aim

is so agreeable to me, I find
that my consenting now’s already late;
you only need to say what’s on your mind.

But tell me why you do not hesitate
in coming down to little here from there
whence you burn to go back, that vast estate.“

“I see you are really keen to be aware,
I’ll briefly let you know then, “ she replied,
“why I’m not scared of going anywhere.

You are only to be scared when you collide
with things that may hurt others; all the rest
don’t matter, you just take them in your stride.

By grace of God I was created, blessed
so that your misery makes no impression;
these flames, this fire don’t cause any distress.

In heaven, there’s a lady in such dejection
about the clash I asked you to amend,
she’s breaking stern decree with her compassion.

She sent for Lucy, called her to attend
and said to her: ‘your devotee is in need
of you, and him to you I recommend. ‘

And Lucy, a fiendish person’s fiend indeed,
took leave and came to find me there, where I
was sat with ancient Rachel, so to plead:

‘O Beatrice, very pride of God, o why
are you not helping him who loved you so
that base pursuits for you he did deny?

Can you not hear how desperate’s his woe,
nor see him fighting death on jagged water,
a river that the sea can’t claim to know? —

No person on this earth was ever faster
in seeking gain or running from affliction,
than I, in hearing of so grave a matter,

when I came down from heavenly position,
confiding in the honesty of your speaking
which honours you and who’s heard your conversation. ‘

At that, having completed her explaining,
she turned her eyes aglow tear after tear,
and that increased the hurry of my coming.

The moment she departed I rushed here:
I saved you from the beast that cut you short
and of the pleasant mount made you steer clear.

So then — nay why — why do you not come forth,
why let such cowardice engulf your chest,
why let your brawn, your righteousness abort,

now that three women so important, blessed
look out for you inside the court of heaven
and I, for you, am promising the best? “.

Like flowerettes afrost since night has fallen,
bent over, shut, after the sun’s white brush,
stand tall, their stem upright and fully open,

my weary virtue felt a sudden rush,
my heart by healthy courage was assailed,
so I, with true intent, began to gush:

“how merciful her coming to my aid,
how kind your swift conversion into action
of the true words that unto you she said!

With your own words you’ve changed the disposition
within my heart, regarding my progressing,
so that I have circled back on my decision.

Now that our wills are one we must be going:
you be the leader, be my lord, my master, “
I said to him; and when he got on moving,

I walked onto a path high and sylvester.