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Sonnet V

How can I think, or edge my thoughts to action,

When the miserly press of each day's

Aches to a narrowness of spilled

My soul appalled at the world's work's time-greed?

How can I pause my thoughts upon the

My soul was born to think that it must

When every moment has a thought to

To fit the immediate craving of its cue?

The coin I'd heap for marrying my

And build our home i'th' greater

Becomes dissolved by needs of each day's

And I feel beggared of infinity,  Like a true-Christian sinner, each day flesh-driven  By his own act to forfeit his wished heaven.

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Fernando Pessoa

Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa (13 June 1888 – 30 November 1935) was a Portuguese poet, writer, literary critic, translator, publisher and phi…
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