Between this heart and Your fire an icy screen,
invisible, damps it down, so these routine
words falsify what I do; the pages lie.
Tongue says it loves You, but the heart's reply
is chilling: there's no love there. Nor can I know
which way to let grace enter, immerse it so
hard-hearted pride is hell-bent for a fall.
You be the one, Lord! Rend it! ramming through
closure that saw Your beauty dim and dwindle,
once light of the world's one sun, now cold as stone.
Send now the promised light that's one day due
to come to Your comely bride on earth! Oh then I'll kindle
the fire within, doubt-free, feeling You alone.
(a prayer of Michelangelo, from The Complete Poems of Michelangelo, John Frederick Nims, translator; photo illustration of Florence, Italy, via everystockphoto.com)
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