You go from Beatrice to Bertran Born

to Virgil in a candlelit instant;
A flick to the left, and I start to mourn
the death of an ideal, now so distant:
A leap to the right, and the flames tell me
that you gave into malicious counsel,
cutting your head off to fill your belly,
exposing your fate to contrapasso:
But when the light licks up straight and narrow
I remember that I was truly lost
on this social path that seemed so shallow
till you gave me hope through flame, pitch and frost:
I'll reach the stars; you'll go back to Limbo 
(in blessèd dreams, though, you'll stay the symbol).
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