Lodged in the slime they say: ‘Once we were grim
And sullen in the sweet air above, that took
A further gladness from the play of sun;
Inside us, we bore acedia’s dismal smoke.
We have this black mire now to be sullen in.’
This canticle they gargle from the craw,
Unable to speak whole words.
— The Inferno of Dante
tr. Robert Pinsky