PURGATORIO, Episode 246. Asleep In Eden: PURGATORIO, Canto XXXII, Lines 49 - 69

The griffin pulls the chariot or cart up to the denuded tree--the "widowed" tree--and the tree regenerates into a color reminiscent of other moments in PURGATORIO. But which one exactly?

We're descending into the murk of mystery with new songs that can't be defined, with allegories that are becoming increasingly opaque, and even with classical references that seem somehow out of place in the overall arch of the glorious parade.

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The segments for this episode of WALKING WITH DANTE:

[01:24] My English translation of PURGATORIO, Canto XXXII, Lines 49 - 69. If you'd like to read along or continue the conversation with me with a comment on this episode, please scroll down this page.

[03:32] A correction perhaps: "Adam" may have been a murmured reassessment of the misogyny in the text.

[04:55] The pole, the chariot, and the tree: complicated translation problems.

[07:15] The pole as the cross or perhaps the ties of good human governance.

[11:49] The changing seasons as the tree regenerates.

[13:26] The ambiguous symbolism of purple.

[15:41] The unknown new song, a further mystery in the passage.

[18:48] A tense and perhaps off-pitch reference to Ovid.

[22:27] A knock against representative art before the apocalyptic vision just ahead.

[24:18] Rereading the text: PURGATORIO, Canto XXXII, lines 49 - 69.

My English translation of PURGATORIO, Canto XXXII, Lines 49 – 69:

And turning back to the pole that he’d dragged along,

He drew it up to the foot of the widowed stem

And left it there, as if it were part of the tree.

As when the grand light descends,

Already mixing with the light that shines

Right after the heavenly fish, our plants

Swell up and then renew

Their individual colors before the sun

Yokes his horses underneath another star—

In this way, opening out with colors less than roses

And more than violets, the tree overhauled itself,

The same whose branches had once been so bare.

Neither did I understand—it’s not even sung over here—

The hymn that those people sang at that moment,

Nor could I withstand its full melody.

If I could illustrate how the cruel eyes

Feel asleep on hearing about Syrinx—

Those eyes whose wakefulness cost so much—

As a painter paints from that model,

I could depict how I fell asleep.

But [to do so], you’ve got to be someone who imitates falling asleep really well.