Midway in our life’s journey, I went astray from the straight road and woke to find myself alone in a dark wood.

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We have no hope and yet we live in longing.

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Justice divine has weighed: the doom is clear. All hope renounce, ye lost, who enter here.

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When I had journeyed half of our life’s way, I found myself within a shadowed forest, for I had lost the path that does not stray.

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There is no greater pain than to remember, in our present grief, past happiness.

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I found myself within a forest dark, for the straightfoward pathway had been lost. Ah me! How hard a thing is to say, what was this forest savage, rough, and stern, which in the very thought renews the fear. So bitter is it, death is little more.

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Lost are we, and are only so far punished, That without hope we live on in desire.

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At grief so deep the tongue must wag in vain; the language of our sense and memory lacks the vocabulary of such pain.

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For she doth make my veins and pulses tremble.

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A fight every now and again does make life more interesting. Don’t ya think?

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