25. The Lush Poetry Of The Lustful: INFERNO, Canto V, Lines 25 - 51
Cranes in the whirlwinds of lust
Our pilgrim, Dante, turns from Minos to discover the hellish hurricane that's the punishment for the lustful.
It's hard to miss the lush language in this passage: verdant, almost overgrown, especially with a beautiful, double simile . . . which actually sets up the problems ahead.
Who are the lustful? What is the root of their sin? And what is our poet up to with these grand similes?
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The segments for this episode of WALKING WITH DANTE:
[01:05] My English translation of INFERNO, Canto V, Lines 25 -52. If you'd like to read along, find a study guide for much more, or continue the conversation with me by dropping a comment on this passage, scroll down this page.
[02:58] My mixed bag of commentary on the passage. First, a question about weather in hell. Second, a note to the reader from the poet. Third, a bit about synesthesia. Fourth, the problem of how our pilgrim immediately knows these are the lustful. And fifth, our first definition of lust.
[11:50] An initial exploration of the gorgeous double simile in the passage: starlings and cranes.
[16:03] A more nuanced exploration of the double simile.
[18:36] What is our poet doing with these similes?
My English translation of INFERNO, Canto V, Lines 25 - 51:
Now I begin to feel the note of sadness.
Now I came to a place
Where a great wailing knocks against me,
I came to a place where light itself is mute,
A place that roars like the sea in a hurricane
When conflicting winds slam against each other.
The hellish whirlwind, never resting,
Drives the spirits on with its violence,
It tortures them, turning and bashing them.
When they are driven up to a ruined outcropping,
They shriek, wail, and lament.
They even curse divine strength.
I understood that those tormented like this
Were the ones damned for their carnal sins,
Those who made reason bow down to lust.
And as in cold weather when the wings of starlings
Carry them aloft so that they crowd the air,
Just so does that wind carry those evil souls
Up and down, here and there,
Without any hope to comfort them,
Or any lessened sorrow, or even a place to light.
And like the cranes that go chanting their sad songs,
Making long lines up in the air,
Just so I saw them coming toward me, offering their cries,
Shades carried on by that blasting wind.
So I said, “Master, who are these people,
Whom the black wind so castigates?”
FOR MORE STUDY
Two translation problems:
I mentioned the complexity of line 34. Here’s the whole tercet, Dante’s three-line stanza, starting at line 34: “Quando giungon davanti a la ruina,/ quivi le strida, il compianto, il lamento; /bestemmian quivi la virtù divina” (literally, “when driven in front of the [ruin?]/ there the screams, the wail, the lament; they curse there the power divine”). Before we turn to the nasty knot of “ruina,” notice the repetition of “quivi” (“there”) in the lines. The poet truly wants us to understand this as a real place, not some dreamy allegory. What’s more, he connects the cries with the blasphemy by repeating that key word. These are not wails of sorrow, per se. Not “just” an expression of existential pain. They’re wails that lead to cursing God. So how sorry should we feel for these “spiriti mali” (“bad spirits”—line 42)? Okay, on to “la ruina.” The problem with reading this word in a more natural way (“ruin,” “rubble,” or “wreckage”) is that the reader has no clue that hell is in ruins . . . at least not yet. So coming on this word without having read further into the poem makes the word almost unintelligible. Wait, we’re in the ruins of something? Like the Forum in Rome? Many scholars try to make arguments for an alternate meaning for “ruina” to keep Dante from using a word that wouldn’t make much sense unless you knew what was ahead. But my thesis is that Dante always starts dropping hints (or seeds) for what will become true down the line. Although “ruina” may be confusing (even ham-handed) here, the poet will get more adept at this technique. When we get up to PURGATORIO, Canto XXVI, for example, he’ll offer a gracious and courtly stanza before we meet a gracious and courtly poet. Dante almost always lays the ground for what’s ahead, sometimes even several cantos ahead.
What the cranes sing is a bit beyond “songs.” They sing “lor lai” (“their lai”—line 46). The term “lai” is loaded in the Middle Ages. It’s used for folkloric romances . . . and particularly for romances about King Arthur and his knights, rhymed tales of love and chivalry at Camelot, both from the English and French traditions. It’s no wonder that the lai is a favored poetic form in the circle of lust. These are the stories about Lancelot and Guinevere, after all. (Dante is also planting the seeds for what lies ahead in the canto!)
Three interpretive issues:
One of the problems for the lustful is that they’re subjected to “contrari venti” (“oppositional winds”—line 30). Think more about what this says about lust: winds blowing in several directions at once. Yes, perhaps wind from a single direction is more in line with monogamy. But Dante himself was subject to conflicting winds: Beatrice and Gemma, perhaps. And while the wind was a common explanation for sexual desire (even “causing” male arousal), it’s also a well-known symbol for literary inspiration. Is there then a way that conflicting winds can make poetry (or perhaps the lai) confusing? And to make things even more complicated, the wind is also part of the miracle of Pentecost, where the apostles speak in tongues as the Holy Spirit descends on them. (Keep this, too, in mind as you move through the canto.)
The lustful are the ones who “la ragion sommettono al talento” (literally, “the reason subjected to appetite”—line 39). First off, “talento” is not quite as direct as I translated it. It’s not as straightforward as “lust.” I weighted my translation so it would be immediately more understandable on first pass. But “talento” actually means something like “inclination” or “appetite.” This little quibble is more important than we might imagine, but it’ll take all the way to INFERNO, Canto XI, for it to pay off. For now, let’s just say we might be entering the sins of the inclinations. And secondly, there’s that verb: “sommettono.” It’s legal, bureaucratic. It’s all about being someone’s “subject” or submitting to a governmental (or chivalric) authority. What is Dante’s notion of human governance? How does it play in here with lust? Is the problem an improper hierarchy? How does lust play into, correlate with, or even undercut the civic structure of human society?
When the pilgrim asks Virgil his question at lines 50 - 51, it’s actually a bit murky. He has already deduced that these are the lustful on the winds (lines 37 - 39). So he’s not asking Virgil for the circle’s rationale. In other words, he doesn’t want to know “who” in general. He seems to be asking for a roll call. And he’s about to get one. Keep that in mind as we move through the canto. What if Virgil’s roll call is not what the pilgrim really wants?
A journaling prompt:
The passage makes a grand claim for reason: Apparently, if applied right, it can keep inclinations or appetites in check. Is that true? Has that worked out in your life? Is reason an adequate remedy, solution, or answer to human desire?