In this second edition on Dante, Il Bisonte Journal emphasizes the ‘generosity’ of the poet’s language, believing that he can teach us – and everyone in their own field; we, who specialize in high quality, sustainable craftsmanship – the passion for living life in all its aspects to the fullest.
“Just as the dreamer, after he awakens still stirred by feelings that the dream evoked cannot bring the rest of it to mind, such am I, my vision almost faded from my mind, while in my heart there still endures the sweetness that was born of it.”
Here he is at the top. Dante in Paradise. We know that he got there, but then what happens? Before the Divine, the poet shows his emotion as far as he is able to see, but he cannot really describe it. And so through song he exhausts (somewhat mischievously), the infinite possibilities of language. The light, the dream, the poetry. (Wow.) One might almost forget what he sang about at the beginning … Something like:
“Off they set along the left-hand bank, but first each pressed his tongue between his teeth to blow a signal to their leader, and he had made a trumpet of his asshole.”
That’s right. From the heavens stirred by love, to the annoying flatulence of demons. The Malebolgia demons with their crazy names (Dante’s favorites are Calcabrina, Libicocco and Draghignazzo), which some think may have represented Dante’s Lucchesi contemporaries (but our readers from Lucca wouldn’t want that in the Journal). Here our poet is having fun, like someone directing a post-punk movie, moving the camera through gloomy, seething sewage and capturing extras in deformed hats. We still don’t know what awaits us at the top …
Dante, we know, is the poet of Everything. He does not adopt a particular voice, rather through his words he sustains life. And once again: what is it to us? To the high fashion customer and the distracted reader on public transport? For the moment, let’s not go as far as Paradise, nor let side B speak. We are content, as it were, with filling our gestures – poetic, modest – and our choices to the brim. And even our dreams, while hoping, like Dante, to find the words to convey them.