Aquel es el mas bajo, el mas sombrio, y el lugar de los cielos mas lejano; bien se el camino, puedes ir sin miedo. Este pantano que gran peste exhala… - Dante Alighieri

Whoso laments, that we must doff this garb
Of frail mortality, thenceforth to live
Immortally above, he hath not seen
The sweet refreshing, of that heav’nly shower.

If you follow your natural bent; you will definitely go to heaven

"So I saw more than a thousand souls of the ruined
Flee before one who strode across the Styx
Dry-shod as though on land. With his left hand

He cleared the polluted air before his face
And only in that annoyance did he seem tired
I knew assuredly he was sent to us

From Heaven, and I turned my head to regard
The Master - who signaled that I should be mute
And bow before him. Ah, to me he appeared

So full of high disdain! he went to the gate
And opened it by means of a little wand
And there was no resistance. "O race cast out

From Heaven, exiles despised there," he intoned
From that grim threshold, "Why this insolence?
Why do you kick against that Will whose end

Cannot be thwarted, and whose punishments
Many times over have increased your pain?
What use to butt at what the fates dispence?

Remember, Cerberus's throat and chin,
For just this reason, still are stripped of fur."
Then he turned back on the filthy path again

Not speaking a word to us, but with the air
Of one whom other matters must concern
Than those who stand before him. And so, secure

Afer those holy words, we in our turn
Stepped forward toward the city & through the gate,
Entering without dispute. Anxious to learn"