Dante's Inferno, Canto VII

Canto VII here.

Previously: Canto VI. I don't want you thinking I just pass out all day. I don't! I eat regular meals, sleep well, stay steady on my feet – The point is I was awake now, and taking it all in. Looking with my eyes, etc, left and right and in between, not to "make up for lost time" but because I just so happen to love noticing things, observing my surrounds, perceiving.

I didn't quite catch whatever Plutus said – I think it was

something about pepper? Aleppo pepper, salt and pepper, something –

I don't know, I don't speak Dutch (or whatever they speak in Hell.)

DUTCH OR NOT, HE CAN HARDLY STOP US FALLING

Virgil said, which was true enough. Then, to Plutus:

WE'RE OUTSIDE YOUR JURISDICTION. LIKE IT OR DON'T.

IF YOU DON'T, YOU'RE WELCOME TO GO CHEW, SWALLOW YOURSELF, AND DIE.

Which sort of took the wind out of the old boy's sails,

and he just fell right over, as defeated as a sack lunch.

Thus we scooted down another row.

Imagine a bag, capacious, full of everything the worst,

and there you pretty much have it.

Souls crashing around like waves on rocks, or rocks on waves,

Rolled around like bowling balls, all smacky smack.

Everyone reracking weights, all heavy like, and ran

into each other, dropped it, lost their shit, and tossed

out the same accusations: "Why'd you drop it?"

"Why won't you drop it?" all at the same time,

Then whirled around, ran back, turned tail, and started all again.

More smacky smack. Awful to watch.

Some were bald, all unhappy. I thought to ask:

Who are they? Who were they? Bald like monks, or normal bald?

OH, THEY WERE MONKS ALL RIGHT.

THEY BOUGHT TOO MANY BOOKS OR SOMETHING.

OR ALWAYS THROWING THINGS AWAY TOO MUCH.

IT REALLY MAKES YOU THINK.

This was followed by a longer speech on Fortune –

You know the drill – wheel goes up, or wheel goes down,

and it's not for us to complain or else cast blame.

We went more down. A lake, I guess a mire,

and frothing like a fountain, choked up with angry little guys,

as nude as nude, and kicking mad with rage.

Then Virgil spoke again: LOOK WELL, MY SON,

AT THE HEAT OF WRATH WHICH MAKES A JACUZZI OUT OF MUD.

THEY MADE A BUMMER OUT OF SUNSHINE WHILE LIFE SHONE OVER THEM –

NOW THERE IS NO JOY IN MUDVILLE, ONLY MUDVILLE.

MIGHTY CASEY IS ALWAYS, ALWAYS STRIKING OUT.