26. ‘Piú di me lieta non si vede a terra’

No ship, beaten and conquered by the waves,

ever made land more happily than me,

when people who were crying for mercy

kneel down on the shore to give thanks:

he who has the rope already round his neck

is no happier to be freed from his bonds,

than me, seeing all those swords shattered

that made so long a war against my lord.

And all who praise Love in your rhymes,

give honour now to the true writer

of loving songs who once went astray:

for there’s more joy, in the realms of the chosen,

in a penitent spirit, and he is more esteemed

than the ninety-nine others who were perfect.

Note: See Luke XV.7