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Dante Meets Paolo and Francesca:
Canto V of Inferno

by Dante Alighieri (1265-1321)
translated by Stephen Binns

And so from that first circle I went down
__into the second, where there is less space
__and much more grief, and toward a distant moan.
There Minos grinds the teeth within a face
__most horrible, and judges one by one,
__placing souls according to his wend.
I mean that when a soul that’s born for ill
__confesses to the sins it can’t defend,
__that expert on transgression then can tell
at which dark depth the sinner’s fall will end.
__He winds his tail around him, numbering Hell:
__each coil one circle down in the descent.
A crowd is always there. They speak, they hear,
__and then he gives his final harsh judgment.
__“Oh you who come where dwells this deep despair!”
he cried, turning from the ones yet to be sent—
__his office—when he saw me standing there.
__“Watch how you enter and in whom you trust.
The entrance is so wide it might mislead.”
__My leader answered him: “Why cry you thus? __Virgil
__His journey is not yours now to impede.
It’s fated and there’s nothing to discuss.
__It’s wished where other wishes must concede.”
__And now began the loudly dolorous notes.
I’d come where sorrows bring a rain of tears,
__where lamentation does not speak but shouts,
__where outcries are percussive to the ears,
where light is mute and bellows come in bouts.
__A storm at sea is near to what one hears,
__with winds and counterwinds in fierce combat.
This never-slackening, buffeting tempest
__whirls round and round in fearsome churns, so that
__it sweeps up every soul it might molest.
And when they reach the ruins He felled flat,__in the earthquake at the Harrowing of Hell
__these cries come even shriller than the rest.
__It’s then they curse the strength that is divine.
I understood these torments were for those
__whose sins were sins of lust, all who consign
__their reason to the service of its throes.
Like starlings flying closer to combine
__their warmth when winter comes and Boreas blows,
__so fly the ill-willed spirits in this gale.
Up and down they go and here and there.
__They cannot hope for easeful rest’s avail,
__or any lessening of their despair.
Like birds that fly in one line, head to tail,
__like cranes all further roiling the air,
__there came a host of shades, now drawing near,
and adding to those sounds of winds at war.
__I asked my teacher, “Master, who is here,
__who suffer so within this black darkness?”
And he: “The first of these who now appear,
__now that you ask, was once a great empress,
__a ruler over many disparate lands.
We both have read of her, Semiramis,
__who made of license one of her commands,
__therefore enfolding license of her own,
her lewdness licit, free of countermands.
__The wife of Nilus, heiress to his throne, __king of Egypt
__she governed all now under Sultan’s blade.
See Dido then, who died of love, alone,
__without Aeneas or the one betrayed, __her dead husband, Sychaeus
__and Cleopatra’s now within your ken.
See Helen, for whose face such waste was laid
__and time was turned, and see Achilles then.
__He too for love’s sore surfeit was undone.
See Paris and see Tristan . . .” At last, when
__he’d named a thousand shades or more, each one
__of those whose lustful bed had proved a bier,
when I had heard his every thought upon
__each ancient lady and each cavalier,
__I nearly fainted from excess of woes.
“O Poet,” I began, “I wish to hear
__from these, the two whose flight so lightly flows,
__though they seem bound together in a drove. __Francesca da Rimini and Paolo Malatesta
Then he to me: “Attempt to speak when those
__two move much nearer, pray them by the love
__that drives them on, that love for which they died.”
As doves are drawn by sight of some sweet cove,
__or their own nest, and spread their wings and glide
__with stronger, firmer purpose, so this pair
departed from the flock, from Dido’s side,
__to swoop down through the fetid atmosphere;
__such was the strength of my affectionate call.
“O living man, so gracious and so dear
__that you would come through this black night at all,
__then greet us, two who stained the world with blood,
oh, if the Lord could, after this our fall,
__accept our deepest prayers for you, we would
__pray for His peace, for you who pities us.
And if you want to speak to us, you should.
__We’ll listen to you and we will discuss
__whatever you may wish, while the storm now stills.
The land where I was born to pieties
__is by the coast where Po and all its rills
__descend into their restful ocean ease.
Love, which heats the gentlest heart it fills,
__had struck the one my body did so please,
__the body torn from me, still unaneled.
Love, which no beloved one ever frees
__from loving, seized me, and yet is not dispelled
__in Hell, as you and every spirit sees.
Love led us to one death, conjointly felled.
__For him who slew us, Cäina waits below.” __her husband and Paolo’s brother, Gianciotto Malatesta
__Such were the words that they had brought for me.
When I had heard the story of their woe,
__I bowed my head and slumped dejectedly.
__At last the poet asked: “What think you now?”
And I responded to him: “Ahimè!__Italian: Alas! 
__How many pleasant thoughts and smiles have led
__these wretches to this wild and dismal place!”
Once more I turned around to them and said:
__“Francesca, I see tears upon your face.
__From sympathy my own tears have been shed.
But tell me: in the time of Love’s own grace,
__that time of pleasantries, how Love gave lease
__to dubious wants, which Love must recognize.”
She said: “There is no sadder search for peace
__than recollecting times of blissful sighs
__in misery—your teacher well knows this.
But if you wish to know the hows and whys,
__the root, the cause, and now it seems you may,
__I’ll weep along with him and tell it all.
We read for delectation of a day
__how Love brought Lancelot into its thrall.
__We were alone, suspicions all at bay.
Our eyes were drawn together, I recall,
__at certain points; both faces then would drain—
__but one point only we had not foreseen.
When reading how that high ennobled swain
__had kissed the very smile of his queen,
__the one from whom I ne’er will part again—
he placed his mouth on mine, both quivering.
__That book’s a Galeotto and its author: __pander to Lancelot and Guinevere
__we read no further, nothing more at all.”
As the spirit spoke this to me, the other
__began to weep. The weight of that dense pall
__so pressed that I collapsed under its smother,
and fell down as a body’s corpse will fall.

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Original Italian

Così discesi del cerchio primaio
giù nel secondo, che men loco cinghia
e tanto più dolor, che punge a guaio.

Stavvi Minòs orribilmente, e ringhia:
essamina le colpe ne l’intrata;
giudica e manda secondo ch’avvinghia.
Dico che quando l’anima mal nata
li vien dinanzi, tutta si confessa;
e quel conoscitor de le peccata
vede qual loco d’inferno è da essa;
cignesi con la coda tante volte
quantunque gradi vuol che giù sia messa.
Sempre dinanzi a lui ne stanno molte:
vanno a vicenda ciascuna al giudizio,
dicono e odono e poi son giù volte.
“O tu che vieni al doloroso ospizio,”
disse Minòs a me quando mi vide,
lasciando l’atto di cotanto offizio,
“guarda com’ entri e di cui tu ti fide;
non t’inganni l’ampiezza de l’intrare!”
E ’l duca mio a lui: “Perché pur gride?
Non impedir lo suo fatale andare:
vuolsi così colà dove si puote
ciò che si vuole, e più non dimandare.”
Or incomincian le dolenti note
a farmisi sentire; or son venuto
là dove molto pianto mi percuote.
Io venni in loco d’ogne luce muto,
che mugghia come fa mar per tempesta,
se da contrari venti è combattuto.
La bufera infernal, che mai non resta,
mena li spirti con la sua rapina;
voltando e percotendo li molesta.
Quando giungon davanti a la ruina,
quivi le strida, il compianto, il lamento;
bestemmian quivi la virtù divina.
Intesi ch’a così fatto tormento
enno dannati i peccator carnali,
che la ragion sommettono al talento.
E come li stornei ne portan l’ali
nel freddo tempo, a schiera larga e piena,
così quel fiato li spiriti mali
di qua, di là, di giù, di sù li mena;
nulla speranza li conforta mai,
non che di posa, ma di minor pena.
E come i gru van cantando lor lai,
faccendo in aere di sé lunga riga,
così vid’ io venir, traendo guai,
ombre portate da la detta briga;
per ch’i’ dissi: “Maestro, chi son quelle
genti che l’aura nera sì gastiga?”
“La prima di color di cui novelle
tu vuo’ saper», mi disse quelli allotta,
“fu imperadrice di molte favelle.
A vizio di lussuria fu sì rotta,
che libito fé licito in sua legge,
per tòrre il biasmo in che era condotta.
Ell’ è Semiramìs, di cui si legge
che succedette a Nino e fu sua sposa:
tenne la terra che ’l Soldan corregge.
L’altra è colei che s’ancise amorosa,
e ruppe fede al cener di Sicheo;
poi è Cleopatràs lussurïosa.
Elena vedi, per cui tanto reo
tempo si volse, e vedi ’l grande Achille,
che con amore al fine combatteo.
Vedi Parìs, Tristano”; e più di mille
ombre mostrommi e nominommi a dito,
ch’amor di nostra vita dipartille.
Poscia ch’io ebbi ’l mio dottore udito
nomar le donne antiche e ’ cavalieri,
pietà mi giunse, e fui quasi smarrito.
I’ cominciai: “Poeta, volontieri
parlerei a quei due che ’nsieme vanno,
e paion sì al vento esser leggeri.”
Ed elli a me: “Vedrai quando saranno
più presso a noi; e tu allor li priega
per quello amor che i mena, ed ei verranno.”
Sì tosto come il vento a noi li piega,
mossi la voce: “O anime affannate,
venite a noi parlar, s’altri nol niega!.”
Quali colombe dal disio chiamate
con l’ali alzate e ferme al dolce nido
vegnon per l’aere, dal voler portate;
cotali uscir de la schiera ov’ è Dido,
a noi venendo per l’aere maligno,
sì forte fu l’affettüoso grido.
“O animal grazïoso e benigno
che visitando vai per l’aere perso
noi che tignemmo il mondo di sanguigno,
se fosse amico il re de l’universo,
noi pregheremmo lui de la tua pace,
poi c’hai pietà del nostro mal perverso.
Di quel che udire e che parlar vi piace,
noi udiremo e parleremo a voi,
mentre che ’l vento, come fa, ci tace.
Siede la terra dove nata fui
su la marina dove ’l Po discende
per aver pace co’ seguaci sui.
Amor, ch’al cor gentil ratto s’apprende,
prese costui de la bella persona
che mi fu tolta; e ’l modo ancor m’offende.
Amor, ch’a nullo amato amar perdona,
mi prese del costui piacer sì forte,
che, come vedi, ancor non m’abbandona.
Amor condusse noi ad una morte.
Cäina attende chi a vita ci spense.”
Queste parole da lor ci fuor porte.
Quand’ io intesi quell’ anime offense,
china’ il viso, e tanto il tenni basso,
fin che ’l poeta mi disse: “Che pense?”
Quando rispuosi, cominciai: “Oh lasso,
quanti dolci pensier, quanto disio
menò costoro al doloroso passo!”
Poi mi rivolsi a loro e parla’ io,
e cominciai: “Francesca, i tuoi martìri
a lagrimar mi fanno tristo e pio.
Ma dimmi: al tempo d’i dolci sospiri,
a che e come concedette amore
che conosceste i dubbiosi disiri?”
E quella a me: “Nessun maggior dolore
che ricordarsi del tempo felice
nella miseria; e ciò sa ’l tuo dottore.
Ma s’a conoscer la prima radice
del nostro amor tu hai cotanto affetto,
dirò come colui che piange e dice.
Noi leggiavamo un giorno per diletto
di Lancialotto come amor lo strinse;
soli eravamo e sanza alcun sospetto.
Per più fïate li occhi ci sospinse
quella lettura, e scolorocci il viso;
ma solo un punto fu quel che ci vinse.
Quando leggemmo il disïato riso
esser basciato da cotanto amante,
questi, che mai da me non fia diviso,
la bocca mi basciò tutto tremante.
Galeotto fu ’l libro e chi lo scrisse:
quel giorno più non vi leggemmo avante.”
Mentre che l’uno spirto questo disse,
l’altro piangëa; sì che di pietade
io venni men così com’ io morisse.
E caddi come corpo morto cade.

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Stephen Binns is an editor at the Smithsonian (the institution, not the magazine). His most recently published poetry appeared in the January 2023 issue of First Things.

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The Society of Classical Poets does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or commentary.


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13 Responses

  1. Roy Eugene Peterson

    Translations that find words to rhyme in a different language and meter to incorporate must be a great challenge for the translator. This seems to be an admirable example of keeping true to the original poem while completing the task in a highly competent and vividly worded manner. I could track some of the words from having a limited background in Latin, but I leave the review to Joseph Salemi. In any case, the English version was absorbing for me to read.

    Reply
  3. Joseph S. Salemi

    Translating Italian terza rima into English can be difficult, especially if you try to maintain the intertwined rhyme structure. This is why many translations of Dante use more adaptable English structures, or simply stick with straight prose. The rule of thumb is this: the more closely you adhere to the strict rhyme scheme of an original text, the more difficult it will be for you to stay faithful to the strict meaning of that text. And the longer the poem, the more complicated will your problem become. That’s why Margaret Coats’ recent translation from Old French was so dazzling.

    Here the translator tries to finesse the issue by keeping close to Dante’s meaning while at the same time allowing the rhyme scheme to be variable. Sometimes he maintains the terza rima, other times he seems to fall into a quatrain-like rhyme, and in other places there seems to be a mix. In this way he attempts to evoke a recollection of the original intertwined terza rima, while using his standard iambic pentameter line to carry the text’s meaning. There’s nothing wrong with this — it’s one possible solution to a verbal problem.

    Binns is faithful to the text, which is a major achievement in any act of translation. I do find that he is too apt to use near-rhymes like “down – moan” and “ill – tell”, but often this kind of thing is inevitable when you are walking the tightrope that tries to balance rhyme and meaning.

    Reply
    • James A. Tweedie

      Joseph,

      Your comment is not only a well deserved compliment to the author but also the clearest and most succinct statement concerning the challenges involved with translating verse from one language to another that I have seen since joining SCP.

      And, of course, your comments re Margaret’s tour de force transcendent skill is also right on target.

      Bravo.

      Reply
    • Joshua C. Frank

      I’ll have to take your word for it that this translation is faithful to the meaning, as I mostly have to use my knowledge of French and Spanish (nowhere near as good as my French) to read the Italian. However, reading the English, I found the same issues you found, and for me, it took away from the English version. It’s nothing against this poet, who is obviously talented; it’s a stylistic preference. I have the same complaints about some translators of French poetry. I’m of the school of thought that a translation needs to look as if it had been written in the target language and not translated from another. Margaret is really good at this.

      Reply
      • Joseph S. Salemi

        Joshua, there is a problem called “translationese” that afflicts some writers who try to change a poem from one idiom to another. It means the translator produces a rigid, clunky, inelegant version that may be true to the original text’s meaning, but that lacks any of the original text’s fire and excitement. I don’t think that Binns has this problem, since his English is clear, literate, and nicely polished. But trying to maintain some semblance of rhyme in an extended piece of poetry puts close to intolerable strain on the translator’s ingenuity.

        The two translations of G.G. Belli that I posted here at the SCP were originally done in blank verse, with no attention paid at all to the Italian rhymes. That’s how they appeared in TRINACRIA. But I decided to re-translate them with some kind of closeness to Belli’s rhyme scheme, and it was an agonizing process to accomplish that.

        I don’t know if Binns plans a more extensive translation from Dante’s Inferno. If he does, it will take blood, sweat, and tears to do it with rhymes.

    • Harley Price

      Though it is daunting to weigh in against someone who has translated Bembo (one of my favorite Renaissance Platonists), I am slightly puzzled by your criticisms. You say that “sometimes [Binns] maintains the terza rima” whereas at others he resorts to a “quatrain” or a “mix”; but I can’t find a single locus in which the terza rima is not faithfully reproduced in Mr. Binns’ translation. As for his use of “near-rhymes,” it seems to me that they are well within the bounds of fourteenth-century practice, in which Petrarch, Chaucer, and Dante himself are not always absolutely meticulous. You cogently set forth the dangers of adhering to the rhyme only to stray from the original meaning of the text (and vice-versa); but again, to my ear, Binns sails through that Scylla and Charybdis without losing a single tail-feather. Indeed, the only credible modern translation of the Commedia that preserves the terza rima of which I am aware is that of the brilliant Dorothy Sayers; and in elegance, clarity, and fidelity to Dante’s meaning, Binns’ is at least its equal. No mean accomplishment, and one, I think, worth celebrating unreservedly.

      Reply
  5. C.B. Anderson

    This is by far the most faithful, lucid and satisfying rendering of terza rima that has ever appeared on these pages. You, Stephen, know what you are about and should be a model for anyone who endeavors to undertake such an arduous project.

    Reply
  6. Stephen P Binns

    To all the members, and to those without,
    a heartfelt thanks for taking all the time
    upon this page within this last redoubt
    of speech’s music: meter, even rhyme.
    As Ser Salemi says, that music must be wrought
    as if by forge to get the thing sublime.
    Ciardi found that English was too poor
    of words that answer to another’s chime:
    he knocked and knocked upon each Latinate door
    and then gave up. Iambic’s uphill climb
    was his descending way to Hell’s dark core.
    Ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom:
    a wearying, sometimes a trying chore,
    like stomping with one shoe across a room.
    Perhaps he tried another set of feet,
    old Edgar Poe’s trochaic, I’d assume,
    tried digging on that crazy backward beat:
    Boom-ba, boom-ba, boom-ba, boom-ba, boom-ba.
    But of the rhymes, if ne’er could thrine e’er meet,
    he compromised and gave us (without flaw)
    just the two, but still a necessary feat,
    for freedom needs a thing to flee, a law
    to float above, aloft, in wafts, a vapor.
    Gavotte needs discipline, as does a caper.
    Dante wrote a song, not a white paper.

    Reply
  7. Russell

    I really enjoyed this and I think it is a really good example of a successful terza rima translation. When reading it aloud I did not come across chunky rhymes that hinder the flow. The meaning was perfectly clear and eloquently spoken. I have read more than a couple dozen of the Dante translations in terza rima and what I usually notice with those translations is a religious (pun not really intended) zeal for hard rhymes and syllable count which usually come at the cost of sounding forced and clunky, as well as sacrificing meaning. This one is more organic in its structure and I think it pays off well. Its looser rhyme tends to flow off the tongue into the ear much smoother, which in turn helps in the consumption of its meaning. Hey, it’s English and not built for easy rhyming. Great job!

    Reply
  8. James Sale

    Great to see the SCP publishing these translations, especially of Dante. Well done to Stephen Binns – this is a joy to read, and let’s not forget that J Simon Harris also on these pages has translated Dante very effectively, and that his complete translation of the Inferno is now out. The linguistic issues of translation have already been discussed, so I will forego that; but with Dante virtually any part of the text has fascinating theological issues. This particular scene – one of the most famous in the whole poem- is no exception. For example, we learn:
    We’ll listen to you and we will discuss
    __whatever you may wish, while the storm now stills.

    Why does the storm still? My own view is that it is because F is about to ‘confess’ – it is not a confession of repentance, and not a confession that will save her, but confess she must; confess as she sees and understands the truth. For the sake of Dante’s salvation, then, confession has a sacred aspect and God allows it to be heard – hence the quieting of the storm. Once of course the ‘confession’ is over, the illicit passion starts up again and ‘they’ are whisked away. A brilliant scene indeed.

    Reply
  9. Elisabetta

    Il grande lavoro di chi traduce è soprattutto riuscire a rendere in un’altra lingua le immagini, le metafore, dell’originale, in particolare quando si tratta di poesia (una poesia per ‘definizione’ vive di immagini, di punteggiatura e struttura dei versi). E’per questo che trovo questa traduzione affascinante e, trattandosi di Dante, intuisco l’enorme lavoro che c’è dietro. Il linguaggio di Dante è altamente simbolico e ricco di rimandi e riferimenti storici difficili anche per chi è madrelingua. Non mi resta che congratularmi e complimentarmi con l’autore che si è cimentato nell’impresa!

    Reply

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