There is no other happier than I,
Neither shipwrecked who finally reached land,
Washed up and shivering, ready to die,
And humbled on his knees by heaven’s plan;
Nor happier the man who felt the noose
Wound tight around his neck moments before,
Than I who see Love’s sword finally sheathed
After so many days and nights of war.
And all of you who praised Love in your verse,
Now, to one led by amorous intellect,
Praise him who earlier had lost his course;
There lies more glory among the elect
For one converted soul, and greater worth,
Than for ninety and nine of the most perfect.
Who is the translator?
I can almost see Jesus leaving the 99 for the 1, hear the Angels rejoicing and hear Stephen forgiving those who are stoning him. Perhaps “most” in the last line is not necessary.