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Dante and Virgil have come through the dramatic gate of Purgatory proper and entered a wildly open space, edging out to the void. This stark emptiness provides an existential contrast to all of the sound and fury that came just before.

Join me, Mark Scarbrough, as we explore the hard climb up to and the initial step onto the first of the seven terraces of Purgatory itself. Let's talk about this passage's emotional space, as well as the beautiful poetics in the medieval Florentine.

Here are the segments for this episode of WALKING WITH DANTE:

[01:21] My English translation of the passage: PURGATORIO, Canto X, lines 1 - 27. If you'd like to read along or print it off for notes, please scroll down this page.

[03:57] PURGATORIO, Canto X opens in a barren, quiet, and unsettling spot.

[10:46] Two interpretive problems: 1) How can love be bad? And 2) what sound does the gate make when it closes?

[15:10] The climb up to the first terrace references two New Testament passages: Matthew 7: 13 - 14 and Matthew 19: 24.

[17:26] The medieval Florentine poetry shows the challenges of the climb.

[22:23] Dante and Virgil eventually stand on a narrow terrace at the edge of the void.

And here’s my English translation of PURGATORIO, Canto X, lines 1 - 27:

Once we were inside the threshold of the door—

The one that those souls with their wicked love cannot use

Since they make the straight way appear crooked—

 

I heard the noise that signaled it had shut again.

If I’d turned my eyes back to have a look,

How could I have made a worthy excuse for my fault?

 

We then climbed through a crack in the rock.

It turned one way, then another,

Almost like a wave as it retreats, then comes forward.

 

“We’ve got to employ a bit of skill here,”

My leader began, “if we want to stick close to

This side or that, depending on which gives us room.”

 

Doing so made our steps quite deliberate.

Meanwhile, the waning moon

Had found its bed and lain down to rest,

 

As we finally got out of that needle’s eye.

Although we were free and out in the open

In that spot where the mountain pulls back to make a little space,

 

I was exhausted. Plus, we were both uncertain

Of the way ahead. We rested at a flat spot

That felt more lonesome than a path through the desert.

 

Measured from the edge’s drop that bordered out over the emptiness

To the base of the steeply-ascending mountain wall,

The ledge was no bigger than three times a person’s body.

As far as my eye could take its flight,

Now toward the left, then toward the right,

The terrace seemed to stretch with the same depth in front of me.