The world is being dug up by our doubts and loves.

From the place where we are right,
in spring, flowers
will never grow.
That place where we are right
is hard and compact
like a yard.
But the world is dug up
by our doubts and loves,
like a mole, like a plow.

(Yehuda Amichai /1924–2000/,
The Place Where We Are Right;
translation Marcela Koupilová)