There are souls beneath that water. Fixed in slime
they speak their piece, end it, and start again:

'Sullen were we in the air made sweet by the Sun;
in the glory of his shining our hearts poured
a bitter smoke. Sullen were we begun;
sullen we lie forever in this ditch.'
This litany they gargle in their throats
as if they sand, but lacked the words and pitch.

Autore: Dante Alighieri