Still incomplete

Work with what enthusiasm we will,

Something actually stays scattered,

Something uncompleted still

Holds up the ascending of the sun.

By the bedside, on the step,

At the edge, close to the doors,

With its danger or its petition,

Like a beggar it pauses;

Pauses, and won't disappear;

Pauses, and won't be repudiated;

By the considerations of yesterday

Each to-day is heavier made;

Till finally the weight appears

More noteworthy than our solidarity can bear,

Weighty as the heaviness of dreams,

Proceeding us all over the place.

Also, we remain from one day to another,

Like the midgets of times passed by,

Who, as Western legends say,

On their shoulders held the sky.