Do Ye Not Comprehend That

Often A Retrospect Delights The Mind.

Here Let Dead Poetry Rise Once More To Life.

I Found Myself Within A Forest Dark, For The Straightfoward Pathway Had Been Lost. Ah Me! How Hard A Thing Is To Say, What Was This Forest Savage, Rough, And Stern, Which In The Very Thought Renews The Fear. So Bitter Is It, Death Is Little More.

In That Part Of The Book Of My Memory Before The Which Is Little That Can Be Read, There Is A Rubric, Saying, Incipit Vita Nova. Under Such Rubric I Find Written Many Things; And Among Them The Words Which I Purpose To Copy Into This Little Book; If Not All Of Them, At The Least Their Substance.

...ma Gia Volgena Il Mio Disio E'l Velle Si Come Rota Ch'igualmente E Mossa, L'amor Che Move: I Sole E L'altre Stelle ...as A Wheel Turns Smoothtly, Free From Jars, My Will And My Desire Were Turned By Love, The Love That Moves The Sun And The Other Stars.