A place I reached, of every light
deprived, which bellows as the ocean does
in tempest, when assailed by warring winds.
The infernal hurricane which never rests
carries along the spirits in its sweep,
and with its whirl and scourge harasses them.
I wrote these words 700 years ago.
They describe the eternal torment of those who cannot control
their carnal appetites, such as the appalling urge to seek
kitchenware in woodlands.