Bruno's Sonnet in Praise of the Ass
Oh holy asininity, holy ignorance,
Holy foolishness, and pious devotion,
Which alone can make souls so good
That human genius and study cannot advance it;
One does not reach by wearisome vigilance
Of art (of whatever kind), or invention,
Nor by the contemplation of philosophers
To the heavens where you build your home.
What's the point, oh curious ones, to study,
To wish to know what nature does,
If the stars are but earth, fire, and sea?
Holy asininity does not care for that,
But wants to remain, hands joined, and on bended knees,
Waiting for its reward from God.
Nothing lasts,
Except the fruit of eternal rest,
Which God grants after the funeral
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