Sancte Hieronymo abandona su libros secular

(Languages of this post: Interlingua, Latin, English)

Quando, ante multe annos, io me separava de mi focar, parentes, soror, parentela, e (alique que esseva plus difficile) le habito de mangiar plus elegantemente (omne isto pro le regno del celo). Io continuava a Jerusalem con le intention de servir, e io non poteva viver sin mi bibliotheca, que io habeva accumulate a Roma con grandissime labor.

E assi, miserabile como io esseva, io jejunava ante leger Tullio; post vigilias nocturne frequente, post le lacrimas que le recollection de mi peccatos passate hauriva ex mi visceres, io prendeva Plauto a in mi manos.

Si, quando io comenciava a leger un propheta, su linguage inculte me horrificava, e proque io non videva le luce con mi oculos, io non credeva que le problema esseva con mi oculos ma con le sol. E durante que le serpente ancian me deludeva, in le medio del quaresma un febre invadeva mi corpore exhauste.

Tunc, subito rapte in le spirito, on me traheva al tribunal del judice, ubi il habeva tante luce e tante intensitate de illumination ex le brillantia de illes stante circum me, e, jectate al terra, io non osava altiar mi reguardo.

Quando on voleva saper mi religion, io respondeva que io esseva un christiano. "Tu menti," ille diceva. "Tu es un ciceroniano, non un christiano. Ubi es tu thesauro es ibi es tu corde." Io esseva tormentate multissimo per le foco del conscientia, e io revocava ille versiculo que diceva, "In le inferno, qui te confessara?"

Io comenciava a clamar e con un crito io diceva, "Que tu habe pietate sur me, Domino. Que tu habe pietate sur me. Domino, si io unquam habeva libros secular, si io los legeva, io te negava."

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Sanctus Hieronymus codices saeculares suos relinquit.

Cum ante omnos plurimos, castrassem me domo, parentibus, sorore, cognatis et (quod his difficilius est) consuetudine lautoris cibi propter regna caelorum, et Hierosolymam militaturus pergerem, bibliotheca, quam mihi Romae summo labore confeceram, carere non poteram.

Itaque miser ego ieiundabam lecturus Tullium; post noctium crebras vigilias, post lacrimas quas recordatio praeteritorum peccatorum ex imis visceribus eruebat, Plautus sumebatur in manibus.

Si, quando prophetam legere coeperam, sermo incultus horrebat, et quia lumen caecis oculis non videbam, non putabam culpam esse oculorum, sed solis. Dum ita me antiquus serpens illudebat, in media ferme quadragesima febris corpus exhaustum invasit.

Tum subito raptus in spiritu ad tribunal iudicis pertrahor, ubi tantum luminis et tantum fulgoris erat ex circumstantium claritate, ut, proiectus in terram, sursum aspicere non auderem.

Interrogatus condicionem, respondi me esse Christianum. "Mentiris," ait, "Ciceronianus es, non Christianus. Ubi thesauraus tuus, ibi et cor tuum." Magnis igne conscientiae torquebar, illum versiculum reputans: "In inferno autem quis confitebitur tibi?"

Clamare coepi et eiulans dicere: "Miserere mei, domine, miserere mei. Domine, si umquam habui codices saeculares, si legi, te negavi."

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Saint Jerome abandons his secular books.

When, many years ago, I left my home, my parents, my sister, my relatives and (something that was even harder) my habit of eating gourmet food (all this for the sake of the Kingdom of heaven). I went on to Jerusalem with the intention of serving, and I was unable to live without my library, which I had accumulated at Rome with an incredible amount of work.

And so, as miserable as I was, I fasted before reading Tullius; after frequent nightly vigils, after the tears that remembering my past sins hauled up from deep inside me, I took Plautus into my hands.

If, when I started to read a prophet, his uncultivated language horrified me. And because I did not see the light with my eyes, I did not believe that the problem was with my eyes but with the sun. And while the ancient serpent deluded me, around the middle of Lent a fever entered my exhausted body.

Then, suddenly caught up in the spirit, I was dragged to the tribunal of the judge, where there was so much light and such brightness from the brilliance of those standing around me, that I was thrown to the ground and did not dare (to) look up.

When I was asked about my faith, I answered that I was a Christian. "You're lying," he said. "You are a Ciceronian, not a Christian. Where your treasure lies, there also lies your heart." I was greatly tormented by the fire of conscience, and I remembered the verse that said, "Who is it that will confess you in hell?"

I started to shout, and I cried out, saying "Have pity on me, Lord. Have pity on me. Lord, if I ever had secular books, if I read them, I denied you."