Only so much can be done in a day, in a week, in a month, in a
year... only so much. What happens when pro-activeness deflates &
the bleary eyes only see those activities beyond the attainable? In
this poem, from Persuasion of the Days, the Argentine poet
Oliverio Girondo explores the unattainable, with an almost Epicurean
tone. (It would not be a mistake to compare Girondo here with the poems
of Ricardo Reis, one of Fernando Pessoa's heteronyms).
