Day was now fading, and the dusky air
Released the creatures dwelling here on earth
From tiring tasks, while I, the only one,

Readied myself to endure the battle
Both of the journey and the pathos,
Which flawless memory shall here record.
(Inferno II, 1-6)
This sense of solitude in life is the hidden secret of the poem. For what immediately awaits the reader is utterly devoid of solitude. The descent first confronts us not with sights but wailing and screaming swirling up out of the pit. In the crowded cramping of hell, no privacy exists. Even the most isolated there, Judas, Cassius, and Brutus, each being chewed in the jaws of Lucifer, have one another and the eternal claustrophobia of hellmouth. They are inside Satan himself, the most intimate and terrible of punishments. Above them, souls are harried, whipped, whirled in the wind, boiled in blood, muck and excrement, beaten, torn, stuffed, turned into serpents or trees, pronged, peeled, burned, and caked in ice.

evet sanirim yeni takintim divina commedia olacak