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Fernando Pessoa - Sonnet IX
Work rating: Low

Oh to be idle loving idleness!
But I am idle all in hate of me;
Ever in action`s dream, in the false stress
Of purposed action never set to be.
Like a fierce beast self-penned in a bait-lair,
My will to act binds with excess my action,
Not-acting coils the thought with raged despair,
And acting rage doth paint despair distraction.
Like someone sinking in a treacherous sand,
Each gesture to deliver sinks the more;
The struggle avails not, and to raise no hand,
Though but more slowly useless, we`ve no power.
  Hence live I the dead life each day doth bring,
  Repurposed for next day`s repurposing.
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